The World Tree
by Largeham-sama
Summary: Years after the Anti-Spiral's defeat, Yoko's pupil Nakim fights to establish humanity's place in the universe - and find his own.
1. Chapter 1: Set The World On Fire

**Chapter 1: Set The World On Fire**

_Reality is vast._

_In the unending spiral in which existence takes shape, humanity is perhaps but an arm, reaching out into the cosmos to grasp its desires. Humans have a fundamental desire for happiness; for love, laughter, affection, and enjoyment. Some go beyond this, and begin to see a greater picture, a beautiful tapestry in which they are but a single thread. Others close their minds and deny humanity's purpose. They wallow only in despair and regret, refusing to long for tomorrow. These are errant, broken threads, their only hope to be woven back into the magnificent work of art we call life._

_While one human may equate only to a single thread, it is these threads that form the outlines and colours of an awe-inspiring picture._

_For a long time, humanity has thought itself alone, only briefly pausing to question whether there is truly something beyond what is immediately visible and tangible to them. But this has changed. For the tapestry to be complete, countless threads are required, and as individual threads run together, they begin to merge with more and more bundles of threads, coalescing into shapes and hues. The threads become invisible against this infinite beauty, and the impossible becomes possible._

_For so long, threads have been scattered and seperated, despair and tyranny stranding and suffocating whole civilizations. But in one glorious moment, the heavens were pierced, and the mockery of a god within cast into oblivion, and now the threads of life weave in and out, destined to meet in the centre at the apex of the tapestry's glory, before spiraling outwards, always improving on past work._

_Will it run out of thread one day? No one can tell. But if that day comes, perhaps we will finally gaze upon the weaver of creation, and they will gather up the threads once more to begin the next work._

_I do not claim to know the future - at least, not yet. But I watch the present in every waking moment, witnessing the rise of heroes and the genesis of empires. My own story ended so long ago; now, it is time for me to tell the tales of others._

* * *

The firmament held an ominous silence. Starlight and dust mingled in the black vastness undisturbed, but laden with a brooding, throbbing menace. It was as if one spark could ignite a supernova, and a lit match would set the emptiness ablaze.

As if to boldly tempt fate, the space station _Icarus _lumbered into this forebodingly serene image, confidently repeating its geostationary orbit as if nothing was wrong in the slightest. A flash of light could be caught occasionally, the radiance of a nearby sun reflected by one of the solar panels dotting the station. _Icarus _itself did nothing but press on, relaxed and tireless. If any sound could have been heard, it would most likely have been a distant, sinister rumble. The tension was building; as still and inactive as the system was, it seemed to be on the verge of snapping.

And snap it did.

Lights blared into view, exploding in a plethora of bright colours before loosening into a chaotic, dizzying swirl. _Icarus_ shook from the impact as it was bathed in sickly red light. From the heart of the explosion, a sea of shadows emerged. They were bulky and angular, but vaguely humanoid, and they moved with an odd grace. Slender, sleeker frames began to form a smokescreen as the heavier figures spat a volley of projectiles from behind, inflicting scores and scratches across the station's surface.

The Ymir had arrived, and _Icarus _was ready for them.

From the bowels of the construct came a swarm of war machines, flames trailing behind them, starfire reflected in their burnished armour. Each one had been forged in the likeness of man, their fists of steel clenched around blades and firearms. Certainly, the Grapearl were an imposing sight, flying resolutely into the oncoming storm, but this heroic image was offset by the aura of fear and chaos emitted by their brutal counterparts. Still, the first charge made short work of the screen of Ymir skirmishers, and opening volleys were exchanged, the true fight beginning.

The blare of several alarms forcibly invaded the privacy of Nakim's head. Swearing, he made his third attempt to establish contact with the rest of his squad. Fiddling with a few switches here and there had no effect; he impatiently kicked the communication console, which immediately set off a sharp crackling sound, before a strained voice filtered through.

'-py? I repeat, Nakim, do you copy?'

Nakim sighed. 'Roger.'

Lieutenant Hector's voice instantly raised in volume for another chastisement. 'Nakim, where in hell are you!? We don't stand a chance if every pilot decides to go racing off into the abyss! Do you want your squad's deaths on your clumsy, incompetent hands!?'

'Maybe I'd be able to find the rendezvous point if you'd stop firing off these goddamn alarms every second!'

Hector's reply was cold and curt. 'It seems necessary to do so if we want to get anything through that thick skull of yours.'

Nakim gritted his teeth in frustration. 'Hell with this then!'

His Grapearl veered forwards, moments before dashing away in the general direction of the implacable wall of Ymir.

'NAKIM! We're supposed to be in hiding, in long range combat!'

Nakim grinned with excitement. 'I hide behind no one!' His Grapearl echoed his sentiments by accelerating, and after a good twenty seconds, Nakim lurched into the foe, rifle raised. He squeezed the trigger with enthusiasm and righteous fury, pouring bullets into the ugly mechs before him. To his satisfaction, he scored more than a glancing hit on two of them, and another hail of ammunition finished them off; they dropped away, smoke and fire belching from great holes and gashes in their bodies.

'**NAKIM!!!'** spat Hector, his tone completely livid. 'Is this how you react to a few belittling comments?'

'Sorry to say, but that's exactly how it is,' said Nakim, the confidence he felt every time he fought beginning to override any of his restraints. Adrenaline spread through his body as he switched to heavy fire and disposed of the rest of his opponents with a few well-placed rockets.

But he was only facing grunts. Nakim longed for more excitement. He steered sideways and backed away from the combat, gauging his surroundings for the first time. Neither human nor Ymir held the upper hand yet; the battle was entering a stalemate around him. Far to the left he saw the rest of his squad at a fire-support point, the green and grey of their Grapearls' armour marred by burns and scratches, but holding out nonetheless. No doubt Hector was barking more of his orders and instructions to his hapless troops. Nakim had never had time for plans, much to his commanding officer's chagrin, and that wasn't about to change; he once again sped away, keeping his eyes peeled for a route into the enemy's center.

He hurled himself back into the fray, rapid fire streaming from his armaments into the Ymir, who were taken completely by surprise, shocked at the suicidal confidence of the man attacking them with wild abandon. It was too easy; he needed a more frenetic fight to sustain this rush. Abandoning the last shred of subtlety, Nakim bullheadedly rammed his way through the ranks of the opposition, heading for his destination at the heart of the battalion.

'What do you think you're doing?' The squad's long-range expert Kaidomaru sounded as disinterested as ever; his question posed as if it had been asked as a formality. Nakim couldn't help but break into another wide smile.

'I'm going beyond the impossible, and kicking reason to the curb!'

A sudden blast rattled the cockpit; heavyset Ymir mechs bore down on Nakim. 'This is more like it,' he muttered, grasping the trigger once again, only to be met by the click that represented an inconvenient lack of ammo. 'And things just get better!' He instinctively switched to close combat, lashing out at the nearest Ymir with foot after foot of cold steel and slicing straight through the machine's midsection. He attempted to plow through the brutes, only to be knocked back by a humongous arm. He smirked. 'And better.' He charged again, this time abruptly bringing his fist down hard into his opponent's flank. No sooner had he knocked it aside than two of its cohorts moved forward, pummeling his Grapearl. He was forced backwards once again.

Kaidomaru's deadpan issued through comms once again. 'Beyond the impossible indeed. Congratulations.'

Nakim only took his words as a challenge. 'I've only just begun to fight...' He tightened his grip on the controls and let fighting spirit flow through his limbs, his blood burning and his heart pounding. A faint green glow illuminated the cockpit, infusing the Grapearl with new vigour even as the two Ymir lumbered towards it.

'I'm ready.'

In a flash Nakim's blade arced outwards, slicing through the Ymirs' shells like a ship's prow through a stormy sea. He hacked them both aside and resumed combat with the first, this time unleashing a barrage of punches, kicks and slashes, the impacts tearing chunks of metal from the hard carapace. Nakim forcefully thrust his left arm through the armoured exterior into the engines, setting of a chain of combustion that resulted in the Ymir mech exploding spectacularly. Nakim basked in his victory; it had been a much worthier fight. But moments later, more Ymir flooded the space around him, obstructing his flight towards the centre.

Anger combined with his lust for victory drove him ever onwards, blazing a trail of smoke and steel through the horde. As much as the excitement of combat motivated him, Nakim also knew that the Ymir were a threat to the wonderful world and civilization he had been shown, all those years ago, from that treetop. This thought sobered him; he began to slow to a halt, concern for his peers creeping into his mind. Looking around, he saw that he had created an entry point; the Grapearls were driving back most obstacles, and the only concentration of Ymir left was in the middle-rear of the battlefield.

'Nakim?'

It was a more feminine voice that rang out this time; Corporal Minayo, one of the unit's senior officers. Nakim gave a polite response for once.

'Corporal, I've succeeded in breaking through the front lines.'

Minayo chuckled. 'Yes, I think we gathered that. Kaidomaru and Jet are heading towards your position.'

Nakim slumped in his cockpit, suddenly feeling the strain and tiredness that came with exerting such burning spirit. Thank heavens Hector was busy. Now he didn't have to worry so much about getting ahead of his comrades.

'Oi, Nakim, what the hell do you think this is, a street race? Slow down!'

'It would do you well to act a little more rationally.'

The energetic, enthusiastic Jet and perpetually detached Kaidomaru had caught up, but neither seemed too displeased despite their exasperated words. Nakim greeted them jovially.

'Nice to see some friendly faces. Kaidomaru, have you gathered anything about the enemy's deployment?'

'My long-range visual sensors have received signals forward and slightly to the left from here that match those previously found in Ymir commanding units. On the far right they have positioned artillery units which Lieutenant Hector is dealing with as we speak.'

'Kickass, could you point me to the big one?'

'I am afraid I must ask you to express your enquiry in a more specific manner.'

Nakim smiled wearily. 'Give me approximate coordinates for this 'commanding unit', that's who I'm looking for.'

'Are you sure that is at all wise?'

'Wise? Fuck no. But it's gonna be FUN!'

Kaidomaru could be heard to sigh loudly, even over the tinny voice channel. 'Considering the lengths to which we have needed to go before in order to dissuade you from these harebrained schemes, I find it infinitely more simple to comply with your request. Sending data in 15.'

Nakim felt a rush of anticipation as the machinery in front of him hummed, relaying streams of figures to be displayed on a number of blue screens. He locked on to the Ymir commander's location and accelerated once again.

'Wish me luck!'

Jet spluttered. 'Wait, you can't seriously be-'

Kaidomaru only sighed again. 'You clearly do not know the cretin well enough. I believe the time has come to rendezvous with the others; we are going to need their aid in order to 'bail him out', as the expression goes.'

Nakim was spurred on by the thought of the perilous fight he was about to enter. As he neared his destination he could see them clearly; a guard of heavy mechs in the shape of beasts, coated in a silver sheen, surrounding a large, imposing machine, covered with ornate scarlet markings, a vicious, jagged slab of metal on one arm and a Gatling-gun-esque armament on the other. There was no doubt in his mind that this would be a thrilling confrontation. He quickly configured comms in order to challenge the commander to glorious single combat.

'Ymir bastards! Let me see if your leader is man enough to take on Nakim, taker of a thousand souls!'

The Ymir parted, and cruel laughter flooded Nakim's open comms channel. A deep growl filtered through the aliens' merriment.

'Well, well. It is not even an officer that challenges me, let alone a true hunter! Listen to me, boy, I don't know what your inflated ego has told you, but you are going to regret your insane decision. When you languish in hell, look back at this moment and ask yourself where it all went wrong for you.'

Nakim only cracked yet another of his daredevil grins. 'You talk the talk... but can you walk the walk?'

Wordlessly he forced more Spiral power into the Grapearl's systems, tightened his grip on his sword, and prepared to charge. The Ymir chief only found this more amusing.

'It would seem you are lacking in any weaponry besides a chipped knife and a pathetic amount of Spiral power. This will be all too easy.'

The chief's mech glowed a malevolent red, its limbs and body tense, ready to burst forward at any moment.

Nakim charged.

Instantly scores of bullets riddled his Grapearl's body, dozens of seperate impacts shaking the frame. He grimaced.

'It's supposed to be a fair fight here!'

The alien threw aside his gun and gave a bark of amusement. 'Fine. Weapons make no difference to me. I could crush you with my bare hands.'

He hurtled ahead once again and they clashed for the first time. The Ymir leader hacked down with his cruel cleaver, but this time Nakim easily blocked and absorbed the blow, lashing out with a sharp kick that knocked the bulky mech away. Refusing to give his enemy even a moment to retaliate, Nakim slammed recklessly into him, using the momentum to carry a forward thrust of his sword into the unshielded body. Next he unleashed a series of frenzied slashes that criss-crossed along the armoured beast, rips and gashes opening in its casing.

'Showing some enthusiasm, are we, human?' jeered the Ymir chief. He brought the fist which had previously held devestating ranged armament down onto the back of Nakim's Grapearl, pulverizing its rear defenses. Nakim almost threw up from the force of the blow, but refused to retreat, instead slamming into his rival's mech once again, and again, blasting it back, always sustaining his offense, punctuated with strikes and slashes. The Ymir was taken aback by the brutal assault, and withdrew a short distance, gathering more Spiral power.

'It seems this won't be such a poor hunt after all,' the chief rumbled. Nakim felt cold defiance pouring from within him, and raised his voice.

'You're not taking down a defenseless herbivore here. You've picked a prey that bites back!' _Let the alien have his 'hunt'_, he thought to himself. _It's the last half-assed metaphor he''ll ever make_.

Nakim attacked again, this time with more precised, focused momevements, dodging the retaliatory hits for once. He clenched his left fist, waiting for an opening, launching flurries of cuts from his weapon, until the Ymir switched from uppercuts to a parry to the right, and Nakim rammed the fist square into the now-vulnerable head, which was demolished by a burst of Spiral power.

'Upstart, don't think this means you've w-' The growl was cut off as Nakim wildly pummeled the body with his Grapearl's limbs, sending chips of exoskeletal material flying and making a series of huge dents.

'You don't know what you're dealing with here, bitch!' roared Nakim, throwing aside his sword to pound the Ymir with every foot and fist he had available.

He beat him forcefully, raining down punches and kicks like a madman. Metal clashed with metal as he attacked, until he spotted a weakened shoulder, grabbed the attached arm and tore it off. With great effort the Ymir commander boosted away, his machine heavily damaged. Nakim trembled with exertion as the satisfaction of victory circulated around his body.

'Very well... it seems I've underestimated you,' the Ymir gasped. 'But there is a certain level of force even you cannot overcome. Men, it is time!'

Nakim looked on in shock as the guards formed a protective circle around their leader, their very shapes shifting and warping. Hatches opened, limbs linked, and pistons pumped as a horrifying new machine was formed around the chief. They were combining, coalescing into a vast, vaguely humanoid shape. Multi-limbed, it bristled with guns and spikes, red flames of Spiral power dancing along its surface. Its six arms each bore a titanic instrument of destruction, and its mighty legs were lined with thrusters and jets. The glistening silver of its thick shell was interrupted only by its blood red core, the remains of the leader's personal mount. It was a truly imposing sight.

Nakim felt uneasy for the first time; this was something he could not hope to beat alone. But, as luck would have it, he was not alone at all.

'Nakim, you insubordinate piece of spit!' bellowed Hector, his voice once again showing off just how unsuited it was for indoor use. 'Look at what you've done!'

Nakim breathed out, for once relieved to see the squad racing towards him. They certainly seemed a little worse for wear, although Nakim realized that his own Grapearl was most likely in a terrible state.

'As I see it,' said Nakim, 'I've broken through the front lines, taken out a decent portion of Ymir, created an opening for the rest of the army, and defeated the enemy commander in single combat. Not a bad job, eh?'

'No. No, Nakim, you're just wrong.'

'Eh?'

'Thanks to your ridiculous antics, three units were forced to retreat after attempting to follow you into combat, creating a significant disadvantage against the heavy mechs. And as soon as we manage to get the upper hand, you go and drag us into a fight against this behemoth with no support or avenues of retreat, a fight we are almost certain to lose!'

'I never asked you to-'

'They're all here, Nakim, all about to die for your stupidity, just as I predicted!'

'Just get the hell out of here, then! You won't care if I go down against this thing, right?!'

'I don't leave men behind, you know that!'

Nakim ground his teeth in frustration. Hector's posturing was exactly what was getting his unit killed.

'You know what, Lieutenant?'

'What? What now?!'

'... Screw you sideways.'

Nakim once again threw himself in the face of overwhelming odds, ignoring his comrades' screams. He flew towards the giant, sure he was going to die.

Sure enough, a gargantuan axe swooped into his Grapearl; even as he attempted to dodge its right limbs were shorn off. The enormous mech punted him away, the collision shattering half his remaining armour. Even now, the rest of his unit were charging in, but Kaidomaru's bullets could not dent the monster; the others fired shells and bullets of all kinds but still did not scratch it. It was over before it had even begun - even as other squads arrived, any attacking mechs were batted aside. The terrible beast bore down on the broken Grapearls, reloading its armaments, raising its axes and cleavers, ready to finish them. For once in his life, Nakim accepted defeat. They were doomed. As the massive executioner slowly brought its arms down, Nakim closed his eyes.

Bursts of dazzling green light shocked him to his senses as the great weapons shattered. An overwhelmingly comforting and inspiring sight rose into view.

Gurren Lagann had arrived!

Even the behemoth was forced to recoil in fear as Gurren Lagann calmly materialized its drills and swooped towards it, brilliant green fire wrapping around it, creating the image of a radiant comet plunging towards the previously invincible Ymir. Gurren Lagann punched straight through its core, releasing its individual components into the surrounding space before the core's spectacular explosion consumed them completely.

The battle finally over, Nakim lay back exhausted as his wrecked Grapearl drifted towards _Icarus_.


	2. Chapter 2: Fallen From The Skies

**Chapter 2: Fallen From The Skies**

The atmosphere in the lift was dark and quiet, a single dim light and a low hum the only sources of sight and sound. The elevator made its downward journey smoothly without a single bump or halt. Nakim disliked the atmosphere; it only added to the tension inside him. The grim inevitability of what was about to happen was set firmly in his mind.

His squad were going to kill him.

The lift slid to a halt, its sleek doors parting to let Nakim out into a dark corridor, warm but empty, its walls sloping and angular. As he walked along, his footfalls made nervous echoes, carrying through the air to break the stifling tension. The _Icarus _space station was an unpleasantly lonely place down here in the bowels, far removed from the life and noise of the dining and living areas. Down here there were only hangars full of expressionless machines and meeting rooms full of intimidating commanders.

He came to a door. Behind it, he knew the others were waiting for the impetuous young man who had nearly dragged them all to die with him. There was no doubt in his mind that their reactions would not be pleasant. Taking a deep breath, Nakim pushed a button to the side of the door. It slipped open with a soft whooshing sound, and he entered the room.

It was brightly lit, with white walls, red carpets and comfortable furniture - couches and benches surrounding a large metal table which would have been used previously to map out and discuss strategic decisions. But at that moment its surface was completely devoid of maps, charts and figures - it was empty and motionless, serving only to reflect the large central light above.

Around it sat his squad, still in their piloting jumpsuits. There was Jet, languishing with his feet on the table, his bright blue eyes flicking in Nakim's direction. Opposite him sat Kaidomaru, one hand running through his charcoal-black mane, the other tapping a rhythm silently on his knee. Next to him was the small, nervous Ken, sat upright and fidgeting restlessly. On one side of Jet was Minayo, as beautiful and graceful as ever, her viridian eyes full of concern. And at the table's head was Hector himself, his face a mask of rage.

Hector was a tall, slender man, with a face that could be considered handsome were it not constantly contorted with fury and a shock of straw-coloured hair down to his shoulders. He was a strict man, the kind of vicious drill sergeant Nakim had grown up watching in war films. But for all his talk of planning and discipline, Nakim knew that Hector enjoyed glorious victory and the associated prestige - which was why he was so intense about these methods of obtaining it.

'Nakim.' His voice was forebodingly low and quiet. 'We almost lost today. We almost lost because _you_, in deliberate defiance of every order you had been given, attacked and provoked an enemy commander alone with no thought as to the consequences, refused to cooperate with anyone in a concerted attack that could have terminated the resultant threat, and left your squad unprotected and divided.'

Nakim knew he was right. Previously he had justified his crazed behaviour with the results he got; he was used to getting by on his massive body counts and combat effectiveness. But this time, he had failed for once, and now not even he could excuse himself.

'This has gone too far, Nakim. There is now only one person authorized to deal with your case.'

'You don't mean-'

'I mean whatever the hell I say!' snapped Hector. 'It would do you well to keep your mouth firmly shut for once in your life!'

Hector paused as Nakim bowed his head. 'As I was saying, there is only one person who can offer jurisdiction for this level of insubordination. We're going to see the general.'

Nakim was silent at this revelation. He was oddly intrigued by this chance to meet the man himself - humanity's finest soldier, the man who wore as his badge of office the core drill itself - the drill that had once belonged to a legend whose name was known by every living thing in existence. It was stories about men like the general that had inspired him to fight.

'Very well. What happens next... is in the general's hands.'

'You're coming quietly for once, eh? Too little too late, Nakim. Follow me.'

Hector got to his feet and led Nakim to another doorway at one end of the room. As it opened Nakim glanced back at his comrades. Rather than anger, he only read resignment and tiredness in their faces. He felt a stab of regret. This time he had endangered their lives. This time he deserved punishment.

He and Hector trod through corridor after corridor, climbed ramps and staircases and entered teleportation booths. It appeared the highest offices were nestled even deeper in the heart of the space station. Nakim gazed around at areas he had never seen before and thought back to the day he had first arrived here.

When Nakim thought of the past he often drew a curious blank. He remembered joining the army in his late teens; he remembered his reasons for doing so, and he remembered the goodbyes he had given to his friends. But he could never clearly draw up anything from his childhood. It was hazy, indistinct; he knew basic facts, like the fact that he had grown up fatherless on an island, but little beyond that - except for one scorchingly clear image; the image of a beautiful horizon, night sky juxtaposed with blazing sunset - the world he fought to preserve from the invaders.

The Ymir were one of a collection of races that existed outside the network of civilized Spiral races. These groups were warlike and barbarous, using Spiral power indiscriminately while the central Spiral alliance moderated their use, always careful not to shatter the laws of conservation of mass. It was these races that posed the threat of the Spiral Nemesis - a minor threat for now, but one too many successful conquests could easily spell doom for the universe.

The Ymir had attacked when humanity settled its third solar system - having previously lost a close fight with one of humanity's neighbours, they set their sights on the humans in an attempt to make up for their loss. For now, the fight was a stalemate, with both sides constantly attempting to come up with some kind of superweapon or game-ending strategy. Only time would tell who succeeded first.

Nakim was jerked out of his reflections by their abrupt arrival at a large, reinforced door, the sign above it displaying the stars of generalship. Hector rapped on it three times, and they waited as stoically as they could, Nakim shuffling nervously now and then.

The door was opened by an aide who allowed the pair to step into the general's office.

The office was full of warm, natural wooden colours, decorated with medals and banners and dominated by a sizeable desk. Standing up from this desk as they came in was General Gimmy, authority palpably radiating from every part of his body. He was every bit as impressive as Nakim had expected - tall, muscular, and tanned with reddish-orange hair, his navy blue uniform brimming with medals and badges of office.

'Lieutenant Hector, is it?' Gimmy's voice was steady as a rock, without a single hint of a quaver or tremble.

'Sir,' replied Hector, who was, remarkably, apparently humbled in the presence of an officer this superior.

'Who is this man you've brought with you?'

'Private Nakim, sir. A Grapearl pilot from my squad who you requested to see upon learning of his critical errors in the last battle.'

'Ah, yes, the 16th's would-be war hero. Yes, please sit down, you two, this is a serious matter.'

Gimmy took a seat behind his desk as aides pulled up two chairs for Hector and Nakim to use. Once the three were comfortable, Gimmy continued.

'Now, I understand Private Nakim here has previously been punished multiple times for counts of insubordination, breaches of tactical protocol and wild behaviour during the course of battle.'

'Yes, sir.'

'And I understand he has also defeated as many Ymir in most battles as four squads would be expected to in the same engagements.'

'... According to statistics, yes, sir.'

'And this time he failed to prevent the Ymir leader and his guard combining due to his deliberate refusal of backup and lack of a tactical approach, nearly losing the battle, in addition provoking the combination by defeating the commander in an impromptu duel.'

'Among other offences, yes, sir.'

'Let us examine the potential repercussions, shall we?' Gimmy's tone became grave. 'Had I not arrived in Gurren Lagann in time, approximately 11 attacking squads would have been utterly wiped out - over half the forces deployed in the engagement. This would have given the Ymir strike force a window in which to attack and potentially destroy _Icarus _itself, robbing humanity of its strongest defense. A catastrophe indeed.'

Nakim sunk a little lower in his seat.

Gimmy sighed and picked up a small object from the top of desk. As he held it out for them to see, Nakim realised that he was looking at what was quite possibly the most valued relic in human history. The core drill was small, the sheen of its golden metal faded somewhat, but Nakim was overcome by a sense of power and majesty just by looking at it.

'Do you know, Private Nakim, what this drill represents?' asked Gimmy, speaking directly to him for the first time.

Nakim answered without hesitation. 'Going beyond the impossible, and kicking reason to the curb!'

Gimmy smiled. 'A good response, but not quite the one I was looking for.'

'Today this drill is a mere shell of its former glory. Today it is a representation of the office of Commander In Chief of humanity's Grapearl Defence Force. But decades ago, before either of you were born, when I saw this drill for the first time, it was held in a very different hand from any of ours - a smaller, weaker hand, the hand of a young boy, shy and fearful, wishing only for a normal life. For this drill, the ignition key to Gurren Lagann, a symbol of hope and freedom... a drill that pierced the heavens and created them anew... for this drill to have had such a humble beginning is quite something.'

'Heroes are not always born. Sometimes they are made. The man who gave me this drill... all those years ago, as much as my sister and I looked up to him back then, no one would have guessed that the quiet little digger, ignored by his elders and peers, who held this drill, would become the greatest hero in the history of reality.'

'I know that you strive for heroism. It is clear from your words and actions. But you do not know how to achieve it. It is not through needless bravado that a true hero is made.'

Gimmy sighed again, and closed his eyes. 'To me, this drill represents that journey, from a nobody to a hero. Perhaps if we had something approaching an actual hero, this war could be won. But as it is, our best weapon has been given to me, an unworthy successor unfit for the title of 'hero'.'

'I have ranted long enough. Nakim...'

Nakim breathed in, preparing to receive his sentence.

'You are a very brave man, that much has become clear to me. But you are no hero. You could have set off a chain of events tonight that would have destroyed humanity. You may think it is just a single slip, but another mistake like this and we could lose the war... even make way for Spiral Nemesis. I absolutely cannot take that risk.'

'You are hereby banned from active military service and will be shuttled home.'

Nakim felt as if he had been punched in the gut. His dreams of fighting nobly for his world had been stifled in an instant, with just one sentence. He hung his head, disappointment and sadness hanging in his heart. As Hector got to his feet and led him to the shuttle hangar, he remained in absolute silence, turning Gimmy's words over and over in his head.

The general had said himself that the world needed a hero if it was to win the war. And now Nakim would never be that hero.

* * *

'Well, Nakim,' said Hector, his voice flat and hollow. 'I suppose this is goodbye.'

They had arrived at a waiting shuttle, ready to tear Nakim from his delusions of grandeur. Nakim simply nodded.

'Say goodbye to the others for me,' he replied, his voice cracking a little. He would never see them again, either. But then, he remembered, he was only a danger to them anyway. A reckless idiot who thought only of himself fighting to the end like a true hero.

The two bid each other farewell curtly, and Nakim boarded the shuttle, taking a seat and slumping dejectedly in it. He remained motionless and voiceless as the doors closed and the engines started, appearing to all the world as if he were a dead man.

He spent the journey trapped by despairing thoughts of the beautiful sky he had seen turning to grey. He had failed utterly; his goal in life had been rendered unachievable, his single great ambition crushed.

Gimmy's words had shocked him in more ways than one. To have such a pessimistic attitude about the war, despite being the man responsible for humanity's part in it, was something Nakim had not expected of the general. He had told Nakim that humanity no longer had any heroes. Even more depressing was that these words rang true; the members of the Dai-Gurren brigade were dead or retired, their leader having mysteriously disappeared long since. Nakim himself, far from being an inspirational leader and fighter, had gone from the ultimate spanner in the works to a nameless man locked in a cage flying away from hope.

What would become of his race? He could no longer affect the course of the war or be privy to its workings. For all he knew, the Ymir could be preparing a devestating move right now that would spell the planet's doom, and he would have no chance to stop it. He was helpless as an infant in the greater scheme.

What had he fought for? He had no beloved childhood memories to preserve; he had only ever known the fight. He had told himself that he was fighting for that amazing sky and the green land and glittering sea beneath. But did he know those things well enough to struggle and die for them? No, in the end, he had been fighting for the sake of the fight, for excitement and adrenaline, for the sweet realization that he had won.

He was jerked out of his reverie by a sudden alarm. He raised his head. The shuttle was juddering violently. Looking around, he observed for the first time that he was alone on the shuttle - it was being piloted by an automated system and he was the singular passenger. Nakim simply sat back, no longer caring what became of him. It was most likely an engine malfunction; he was going to have to crash land. In a matter of hours Nakim's life had crashed in much the same way; inwardly, he cursed the Ymir, cursed himself, and even cursed his comrades. All the joy and zest for life he had known but a matter of hours ago was gone.

A while later, the shuttle hit the ground in a great fireball, the crunch of metal and the whistles of broken machinery providing accompaniment to the roar of a violent explosion.


	3. Chapter 3: Deserts At Midnight

A/N:

Whew, never done one of these before.

Anyways, considering I'm properly getting into this story now, I guess I'll explain some stuff. You may be wondering why the hell I've chosen to write about a bit character who appeared in two episodes and who many people won't even remember. And the answer is, well, because I thought his story was interesting, simple as that. And I wanted to finish that story, so here we are.

You may also have noticed Nakim is very different from his child self - this is deliberate, even a plot point (his lack of memories of his childhood factors heavily into this, and I can say that without spoiling too much). More about this and all the other new elements will be revealed as the story rolls along, and there'll be a lot more exposition in a couple of chapters - but for now I'm focusing on establishing the characters, particularly the present version of Nakim.

Naturally, I own nothing but the mind of a crazed fanboy.

**Chapter 3: Deserts At Midnight**

'Am I... there... yet?'

Jun's legs were beginning to give out. Every step was heavier, leaving a sharper indent in the dusty ground beneath him. The dry, cracked expanses stretched for miles all around, the shapes of great rocks, cliffs, mountains and plateaus framed in the distance against an indigo sky. The air he gulped in was beginning to chill, but remained devoid of moisture, intensifying his thirst.

He had no idea how long he had been walking, or when he had entered the wasteland; all he knew was his destination, the sweet promise of a bustling city full of life, laughter, food and drink. He focused on each obstacle ahead, desperate to see it become a building as it entered the foreground, desperate for signs of life. His body was starved and deprived, old, baggy clothes hung over a tiny, emaciated frame. He craved water, sleep and food; his muscles screamed for rest, his breath coming in gasps. But still he maintained a vicelike grip in his mind on that one thought of the city. When he got there, his suffering would stop, he knew it.

An icy breeze picked up. Above the faint sound of wind, there was a distant rumble. Jun looked back for the first time in hours to see a dark shape drop down from the heavens and hit the ground in a cascade of fire and dust.

Jun could not afford to go back. He pressed on, feeling fainter with each step, longing so ardently for the city, for an end to his life of loneliness and deprivation. He had to keep going. He had to. He couldn't afford to stop, to never reach the city. He pushed the very possibility from his mind. But as he did so, his head began to empty. He had pushed too hard. Shuddering, he collapsed, hitting the ground like a sack of rocks, and lay inert, dreaming of the city.

* * *

The howling of fierce winds was the first sound to greet Nakim's ears. He was bundled in a quite uncomfortable position, the chrome wreckage of the shuttle's smooth, curved hull strewn all around him. Shakily, he managed to get to his feet, only to drop to his knees again. It appeared the impact had not injured him too badly, but the shock had still taken its toll on his body. He crawled out of the crash site, freezing night air sending shivers and convulsions down his barely-protected back.

He was nowhere near the shuttle's intended destination - this was clear from the utter emptiness of his surroundings and the hard sand beneath his hands. Feeling rather weak and helpless, he desperately searched for an idea as to how he would get back to civilization. There were no stars in the sky, no directions or signs, and he did not have a map on him. In despair, he pounded the ground with a trembling fist. What more could life throw at him?

Nakim shook himself. He had somehow ended up inert, curled up on the ground. Feeling a little stronger, he finally succeeded in standing up. Grimly, he set his mind. Fortune was testing him, and he would not fail. He had never given up before, and now was no time to start. With newfound resolve he set to searching the surrounding area, hoping to find clues about his location.

It was not long before he spotted a small, dark, unrecognisable shape among the dust. He jogged towards it as quickly as he could, his feet kicking up billowing clouds of dirt, until he arrived in front of the unknown object and crouched down to inspect it. In the absence of light it was hard to make out any distinguishable features, but it was less than four feet in length. He looked closer and reached out to feel its texture.

With a shock, he realized that it was the prone body of an unconscious child.

Nakim was completely taken aback by the presence of an infant lost in the desert at this hour, and confronted himself with the undeniable fact that he was now responsible for the child's life. He quickly set to work on an attempt at resuscitation. Cradling the tiny figure in his arms, he saw that it was a small boy of about five or six years, with a pale complexion and frighteningly thin limbs. He was most likely suffering from severe hunger and thirst. For once, fortune favoured Nakim; he had a flask on him which he hurriedly drew from his belt.

He gently shook the boy, disturbing his slumber but failing to wake him. Nakim decided on another approach and put the flask to his lips. He began to let a slight trickle of revitalizing water out, which achieved the desired result. Without opening his eyes the boy drank desperately from the flask, quickly emptying it of its contents. With great effort, the boy opened his heavily shadowed eyes and blinked, confused by the presence of a face lingering in his vision.

With a jolt he remembered his circumstances and slipped out of Nakim's arms.

'Woah, there! You don't seem to be in the best shape, kid!'

The boy stared at him, wide-eyed. _Even this kid thinks I'm a madman, _thought Nakim, grimacing.

'Okay, I need you to keep calm and tell me what a kid like you is doing in the wastelands.'

The boy was still just as bemused and frightened. Nakim sighed.

'**Where are you going**?' he stated clearly and emphatically. For the first time the child answered him, in a voice as frail as a newborn lamb.

'The city.'

Nakim grinned. 'Well then this is a turn up for the books! 'S where I'm headed too!'

The boy's fear began to disappear, although confusion was still etched in his face. He was silent yet again, and Nakim reminded himself that he was dealing with a half-dead five-year-old.

'Alright, I need you to point me in the direction of the city. As long as I know where to go, we can get there together.'

Nakim waited for the hesitant infant to raise his hand. He was motionless at first, but then, slowly, he lifted his arm, his index finger directing Nakim to his right. Relief flooded Nakim; he knew where to go now, and he was confident they could make it there with enough perseverance.

'Heh, look at me, asking a freakin' kid for directions. Come on, we may as well make a start. I'll carry you.'

He hauled the hapless child onto his back - he was far too weak to protest. With a direction clear in his mind, Nakim set off, walking as steadily as he could.

'I'm Nakim. What do they call you, kid?'

Once again there was no response for some time, until that meek, tiny voice raised itself amongst the raging winds that swept sand across Nakim's legs.

'Jun.'

* * *

Tiredness was not a feeling that plagued Nakim very often, but given the day he had just endured, it was only natural to feel lethargy creeping into his bones. Still, Jun's quivering kept him awake and alert, and he marched steadily on, his jaw clenched, summoning new bursts of ferocious strength to throw himself against the rising sandstorm.

In his heart of hearts he knew they needed to find shelter if they were to have any hope of survival. Luckily, not too far to his left was a great outcrop of stone dotted with caves. He turned and struggled onward, acutely aware that for all his determination he was losing energy fast.

The outcrop loomed ahead, beckoning Nakim; at times he could swear there was a haze of greenish light emanating from it. He dismissed this wild idea as a figment created by his sleep-starved mind, but he tried to focus on it nonetheless, and the chances it offered for safety and survival filled his flagging corpus with desperate hope. The wind's howls raised themselves in defiance of his attempts at optimism, and a cloud of sand rose inexorably, robbing him of the sight of his destination.

But still he walked. Still, he clung to life.

At last the desert bested him. He dropped to his knees, covering his eyes from the sand. Despair seeped in from the edges of his mind once more, forcing his body down into the shifting, freezing ground. As one last act of protection he wrapped his arms around Jun to shield him from the cold and sand, and prepared to face death.

'I suppose...' he whispered to the night sky, his voice cracking. 'I suppose the world is striking back against the man who nearly killed it. But... perhaps... this child could survive... Yes, if he could make it there... maybe I won't die for nothing...'

Nakim craned his neck upwards for what he thought would be the last time.

And in the distance was the silhouette of a man, striding purposefully towards the two broken travellers.

* * *

The first thing Nakim noticed when he came to was warmth. The air was immensely comfortable, far more comfortable than the enforced stillness within _Icarus_; it was an atmosphere far closer to Nakim's old home, back before he had gone to fight.

The next was that he was lying in, of all things, a bed - and once again it was accomodation far superior to what he was used to.

Blinking, Nakim tried to emerge from the state of sleep and once more ponder the questions of where he was and how he had arrived there. He was sitting upright on a mattress, a few blankets scattered here and there, and surrounded by walls of rough, unhewn stone - indeed, the interior of this room seemed much like a cave, a fact further supported by the fact that the only light came from a flickering source in another room, around the corner of his.

Warily, he slipped along the wall towards this corner, his breath held and his footsteps silent. He had no idea who had brought him here; for all he knew, he could be a prisoner. Heart pounding, he inched his head around that corner.

The scene that met his eyes was in fact lit by a fire in the middle of a large, circular space, surrounded by a grouping of benches with an opening on one side. The only person currently seated there was a tall figure swathed in dusty cloaks and robes, its head bowed before the blaze, a curious little mammal slumbering on its shoulder. Nakim clenched his fists. The figure was large and therefore most likely stronger and heavier than him, but Nakim was no stranger to combat of any kind, and he saw no course of action other than to confront his captor.

Stepping out from the shadows, Nakim gave a demand for information in a quiet growl.

'Who the hell are you?'

The figure raised its head. He saw for the first time that it was a human male, aged but strong-jawed, his hood obscuring his upper features. A low but not unpleasant voice issued from the man's mouth.

'Ah, how wonderfully fitting it is that you chose those words to try and ascertain my identity. Who do you think I am, boy?'

Disarmed, but still cautious, Nakim responded. 'The kind of man who lives in caves and kidnaps strangers, from what I can see.'

The old man chuckled. 'Really now, that's a little harsh. Just use a word like 'hermit' or 'wanderer'. And I must say, you're being somewhat ungrateful to the man who just saved your life.'

Nakim realised that just like Jun he was being confronted by the enigma that was the helpful stranger, and spoke more softly this time.

'Is Jun okay? The boy?'

'He is fast asleep as we speak. I will endeavour to feed him as soon as he awakes; the child looks as if he could devour a molepig herd.'

Nakim breathed a sigh of relief and sat before the mysterious cavedweller.

'I'm sorry, I'm not having the best time of my life right now.'

'Doubtless. I can't imagine walking through the desert at midnight with no supplies being anyone's idea of a good time.'

The old man was unfazeably calm and good-humoured, and Nakim found himself beginning to warm up to him.

'Well, I guess I have to thank you from the bottom of my heart. If you hadn't found us I'm sure we'd both have found our graves in the wastes tonight.'

'Nonsense, I should be congratulating you on making it here.'

Nakim was a little thrown off by this comment, but the old man pressed on.

'I take it you're actually trying to get somewhere?'

'Yup. We're headed to the capital.'

'Urgently?'

'Even if it was urgent, I don't think I'd prefer a cold, hungry death to extreme lateness.'

'I see.'

'My name is Priv- it's Nakim,' he said, catching himself as his now-former rank rolled off his tongue. 'What should I call you, old man?'

'Heh, Old Man is good enough. My name belongs to history and memory now.'

Nakim was increasingly puzzled by the Old Man's cryptic speech, but passed it off as the beginnings of senility.

'What exactly do you do out here, Old Man?'

'Oh, this is hardly a home. Truth be told, I spend most of my time wandering, trying to right wrongs wherever I see them. Perhaps not the cosiest of retirements, but I do find it satisfying. And sometimes when I travel, I tell my tales.'

This received a raised eyebrow from Nakim. 'Tales?'

'As my name is lost to history, so part of history now belongs to me. I have witnessed some of the more exciting deeds in the annals of humanity, and people love to hear the stories wherever I go.'

'Well, I don't have much better to do. How about one of these 'stories' of yours?'

'All in due time, young Nakim. First, I think I shall prepare some food.'

The Old Man got to his feet heavily and disappeared for a little while, reemerging with armfuls of meat, bread and crockery.

'Where the hell do you get this stuff in a cave?' asked Nakim incredulously.

'Oh, I pick them up here and there,' answered the Old Man jovially.

* * *

Shortly, they were tucking into the meal the Old Man had cooked. While he was no expert chef, the food he made was nourishing, and Nakim became full rather quickly.

'Nakim,' began the Old Man. 'It would seem you have something on your mind.'

Nakim's face fell as he remembered his unfortunate circumstances. 'I guess you could say that,' he murmured despondently.

The Old Man laid a hand on his shoulder. 'Come now, no use locking it in. What's eating you, boy?'

'I've just crashlanded after going through the greatest failure of my life. The world's best soldier has personally banned me from active military duty, I've realised my reason for fighting was a lie, and I've lost any direction I had in life. I used to be Private Nakim of the Icarus Corps' 16th Grapearl unit. Now I'm Nakim the wandering bum, lost in the middle of nowhere with no job or home.'

The Old Man cracked a smile. 'You forget who you're talking to.'

Nakim only sighed in response.

The Old man carried on. 'What is this 'failure' of which you speak?'

'Thanks to my 'continuous negligence towards tactical thinking', I almost lost the whole army an important fight. I had to get bailed out by freaking **Gurren Lagann**. And... I always thought I would live for this fight... now I'm more useless than a fifth wheel. What kind of purpose do I have now I'm discharged from duty?'

The Old Man still only showed warmth and mirth.

'You think yourself insignificant because some stuffy highers-up decided you were a liability?'

'That's about the long and short of it.'

'I think maybe it's time for that story.'

As these words left the Old Man's mouth, Nakim felt a small hand latch onto his little finger. Turning his head, he saw Jun, looking even more frightened and mystified by his new company and surroundings. He had to admit that he felt a wave of protective instinct gazing into Jun's great, green eyes; he picked the silent infant up and placed him on the bench besides him.

'Don't worry, Jun. The Old Man's here to help us.'

His words did little to relax Jun, but the bowl of food the Old Man gave him cheered him considerably, which was unsurprising given his shockingly malnourished appearance.

The Old Man gave a rich, bassy laugh. 'Well, how delightful that our next guest has arrived. Do you wish to hear a story, little one?'

Jun nodded, the corners of his mouth rising for the first time.

The Old Man beamed and threw more wood on the fire. 'Gather close, then. This one might be a while in the telling... though it will most certainly be worth it.'

'This is the story...' he began.

'...of a man who has yet to find his destiny.'

* * *

A/N:

Insert episodes 1-27 of TTGL here :)


	4. Chapter 4: Kamina City

A/N:

A note on timeframes - The World Tree takes place a few years before the epilogue of TTGL.

Also, I've settled into something of an update schedule now - so you can expect a new chapter every Sunday, barring computer death or other misfortunes.

I own a grand total of *ding* nothing! Derp de derp.

**Chapter 4: Kamina City**

Not too long ago, Nakim had been trapped in a well of despair. But the story the Old Man told was a story of fighting and overcoming that despair, never giving up, even against impossible odds - to create a universe free from the shackles of tyranny; a universe free to shape its own fate once again.

It was a story every child born afterwards learned while growing up, chronicling as it did the exploits of history's most remarkable and esteemed protagonist, but told with a detail and oration that Nakim had never heard before. The Old Man, of course, had already been an adult at the time, and from what Nakim gathered he had been present during some of the conflicts involved.

Perhaps he could even answer the question every child posed the first time they heard the ending.

'Where did he go?' Nakim asked, a little hopeful.

The Old Man gave a knowing smile. 'I knew you would ask that. Still no one knows; some say he disappeared into the heart of the Old City in Teppelin, but many believe he left our humble little world for the stars; some scientists point to large Spiral energy deposits in space as signals of his presence, but they're always found to be places where alien ships have accelerated or old battle sites. I'd like to think he went out to see the wonders of the creation he saved.'

'Well, that's definitely the most in-depth telling of the story I've ever heard.'

'When were you born, Nakim?'

'Not too long after the last fight at Teppelin, actually. Apparently I was there to see the moon fall from the sky, although I can't remember a bit of it.'

'Oh? Quite an event, that was.'

They sat in thought for a little while, until the Old Man spoke again.

'Nakim, don't give up.'

'Hm?' Nakim's head jerked upwards.

'Just because the man tells you you can't fight doesn't mean you can't. If anything, you have more freedom to do so now.'

The truth of these words dawned on Nakim; he stared wide-eyed at the old man. 'You mean I should still...'

'There are no shoulds, only cans. We all choose how to live our lives, and we can choose not to lead them in despair.'

A shadow of his former confidence flickered across his face.

'You're right... I don't need titles or duties to kick ass. I just need to get some gear, get up there and sucker-punch the alien menace right in the face!'

The Old Man chuckled approvingly. 'Exactly. Don't bow down, Nakim; you have the strength to struggle.'

* * *

A short while later, he and Jun prepared to leave. Nakim was full of hope and resolve after the night's trials; he felt as invincible as he did in the thick of the fight.

'Well, Old Man, we'd best be heading to the capital.'

'You know how to get there? There's only a few kilometers' walk left.'

'I think we'll be fine now. Thank you so much... for everything. I think your finding us may just be the luckiest thing that's ever happened.'

'Well, it's nice to have some company now and then. It was an honour to meet you, Nakim.'

'The honour is all mine.'

Nakim saluted the Old Man goodbye. The Old Man nodded in response, and then they turned their respective backs, heading toward the future.

They plodded forward, great stone protrusions still keeping the city from view. In the early morning hours the temperature was more bearable, and the walk seemed to ease up with every step, in opposition to the night before where the chill of midnight ate away at one's skin and one's feet felt heavier with ever pace. Jun was still silent, apparently only just recovering from his horrific experience in the desert.

Nakim turned things over in his mind. He had met two very enigmatic people in one night; the strangely unfazeable, seemingly omniscient Old Man, and the wordless, malnourished child tottering along behind him. To have found them both at the same time was a freakish twist of fate. Since that last battle, everything had changed; life felt more surreal, a barrage of new experiences rippling through a once routine existence.

He knew where he had to go. He agreed completely with Jun on this point; the one place where any problem could be solved and any question answered was, without a doubt, humanity's first and greatest city. It was there he hoped to find a home for Jun - and a way to the stars so he could chase his dream again.

Minutes drifted by, wild images of fire and steel filling his head. He wondered briefly whether his bizarre addiction to combat was destroying him - certainly, it was what had led him here. But then, if he had never arrived here, Jun would be dead and he would never have encountered the Old Man. Besides, he had sworn to himself that he would never hold regrets. Maybe this was why his memories had drained away - his refusal to look behind him. But a true man never turned away, he knew that.

Nakim's train of thought was delayed by the sudden appearance of a welcome image on the horizon - the sprawling metropolis that formed their destination. They were nearly there.

Spurred by this sight, Nakim and Jun assumed a brisker pace, craving the noise and life of civilization. The earth seemed to dash beneath their feet as they sped up, until they almost sprinted in the city's direction. Only when their breath left them did they once again resume a walking pace, but it was enough. After hours of walking, they were on its very doorstep, joining a great road that threaded its way into the city's heart.

They had arrived at Kamina City.

* * *

By the time they had reached a train station on the city's outskirts, their feet and legs were positively murdering them; they gratefully sat themselves at a bench, and for the first time in hours Nakim turned to his little companion.

A marked change had come over Jun - his eyes shone with excitement, awed by the cars trotting to and fro along the streets, the tall, many-windowed concrete buildings, and the crowds of people attending their daily business. Nakim wondered if this was in fact the first time he had been in a settlement of this size.

'Well, Jun, we're here,' he said encouragingly. Startlingly, Jun beamed back at him. 'Happy to be here?' Jun nodded and gave a little 'mm' of contentment.

He could not help but be charmed by Jun's wide-eyed amazement. He sighed.

'It's a long time since I last visited the city. I suppose, since I don't have much in the way of family...'

A hint of something else entered the near-mute infant's eyes, something almost resembling sympathy or regret. Though he dared not voice it aloud, Nakim became suddenly aware of the very high likelihood that Jun was an orphan. He decided to veer away from the subject.

'Well, best make a move. Let's head to the city centre, so you can see some of the sights!'

Jun gave his wordless approval again.

A matter of minutes later, they were sat aboard a train sprinting towards the city's heart as fast as its rows of piston-like legs could carry it. Jun was feeling the wear of desert travel once again, and had fallen asleep, his head cushioned on Nakim's right arm. He was utterly at a loss as to what he would do with the boy - he had barely spoken to any children in his life, and had certainly never had the task of looking after one.

Turning his head to see out of the window, he watched windows and roads blur along the route. Eventually the train dashed onto a long bridge that sailed high over roads only just freeing themselves of the morning's congestion. Towers and skyscrapers could be seen on the skyline now, and a high midday sun was visible, lighting the streets with great intensity.

Nakim nudged Jun, prompting him to blink a few times and rub his eyes with tiny fists.

'Here's the first proper view, Jun,' he said, indicating the monumental works of architecture and network of roads. Jun gave a little gasp and pressed his face to the window, drinking in the rather impressive sight.

Nakim yawned and gave a wide grin. If there was one thing he could remember it was his moving to the city, and being introduced all its sights and surprises. Growing up away from the urban sprawl made Kamina City that much more glorious - the novelty added to what was already an amazing experience.

Jun was wide awake for the rest of the journey, marveling at every new urban panorama.

When they finally arrived at the centre he was almost energetic, skipping joyfully onto the platform and out of the station, to the point that Nakim was the one struggling to catch up.

'Oi, you don't want to get lost now!' he yelled as he drew level with Jun. 'Can't go charging around unfamiliar territory.' Nakim mentally punched himself for the hypocrisy of that admonishment, but he was responsible for Jun now, and keeping him safe came before filing through his list of personal failures.

Jun slowed to a halt, looking a little sheepish. Amused, Nakim gently took his hand in order to lead him to the next destination. As he did so, he noticed another change in Jun's demeanor - it was one of curiosity and puzzlement. How long had Jun been alone? He had probably had little contact with others over the brief course of his life so far. Then again, Nakim himself hadn't exactly been bathed in affection by his comrades in his years of service - they all viewed him with fear, disdain, or amusement. This lonely little boy was the first real company he'd had in a long time.

With a soft tug Nakim pulled Jun in the direction of a long, wide, busy road lined with souvenir shops and tourist information. Quite soon they would arrive at one of the city's most famous attractions.

Striding along the road, he grimaced at the sight of a poster displaying President Rossiu's aging face. He'd been indifferent to the man for most of his life, but the Old Man's account put him in a new light - a significantly less flattering one, given that it alleged that their leader had almost thrown them all to the dogs. Still, they had prospered since those times, and Rossiu had apparently earned his forgiveness.

They reached the end of the road, and turned left, snaking through some smaller roads until they arrived in a massive square, its edges lined with flags and banners proclaiming the victories of the human-beastman war, at the centre a presence that made Jun's jaw drop.

'You heard about this one in the story, Jun.' Nakim laughed.

Mounted in a patch of green in the middle of the square was a gigantic statue of a man, sharp sunglasses perched on his nose, one arm outstretched to point towards the clouds. It was the revolutionary from whom the city took its name; the great Kamina, founder of the Gurren Brigade, a famously charismatic leader and at the same time an infamously tactless idiot. Truly, the statue was a fine representative of the city.

Jun's eyes shined with an awe that almost reached disbelief. He spoke for the first time that day.

'Who made this statue?'

'Ha! Who else but the founder of the city himself? What you see before you is his sculptural masterpiece!'

Jun became speechless before the mighty statue.

The day wore on as they wandered through the inner town, pausing occasionally in order to eat some lunch and look at any landmarks they found, until they reached the city's internal limits.

'Look up, Jun,' said Nakim. Jun did so, and his eyes appeared to almost free themselves from the confines of his skull.

They stood utterly dwarfed by the colossal majesty that was the old city, Teppelin; a place no one had entered in over a decade, what lay within its dense, unbreakable walls was unknown to the general populace. Rumours held that it was lined with vast towers and rows of bizarre machines, and that the ancient throne of the Spiral King lay at its very summit. It was a ludicrously large edifice, so huge its crown disappeared into the clouds, like some sort of ironclad mountain.

'Didn't look so big back when we were at the borders, did it?'

Jun shook his head vigorously.

* * *

The sun began to set, submerging the city in warm liquid gold, taking its position among scattered trails and fragments of darkening cloud.

Nakim was sitting with Jun on a simple park bench, gazing up at the serene heavens. That day they had seen the very triumphs of civilization; the commemorations of past heroes and the city of the future. But to Nakim, that sunset was something far more beautiful and precious.

It took him away to somewhere he wanted to be, as if here was not his place; but as he hard as he tried he could not reach it. He was incomplete without the rest of the picture; incomplete without the rest of his mind.

Curiously, he felt himself drawn to the leaves and trees, as if they were the next step of his journey home...

'Nakim.'

He jumped; Jun had finally called him by his name.

'Yeah?'

'Where did you come from?'

'What do you mean? Where was I born?'

'No. When you fell out of the sky.'

'Ohhhh. Heh, 'fell out of the sky', that's a pretty good description of my last couple of days. You see, Jun, I was up with the stars, fighting evil people who want to snatch this precious world for themselves.'

''Why are you in this place?'

Nakim lapsed for a few seconds into a brooding silence, before remembering the Old Man's advice.

'Because those people are scared I'll beat them. And well they should be, because as soon as I get up there I'll give them the seeing-to they deserve!'

'Are you... angry, Nakim?'

Nakim gave a regretful sigh. 'Yeah, I suppose I am. But I'll get better.'

There was a thick silence for some time, until Nakim got up. 'Well, time to move on. Come on, I know a place where you can stay.'

As the last sunlight started to fade, they left the city centre and all its miracles behind.

* * *

Another lengthy train ride later, they were at the simple glass doors of a tall apartment building. Nakim punched a button for the appropriate room and waited for a voice to emerge from the speaker above. Some time later a young woman's voice sounded out.

'Hello?'

'It's Nakim. I've got a bit of an emergency on my hands.'

'**Nakim!**' the woman replied, her joy palpable even at this distance. 'Come on in, I'll see what I can do!'

The two travelers entered the building and took an elevator to the fourth floor. Nakim was a little startled by its rough, rumbling passage; he was too used to the _Icarus _lift system.

They emerged into a small landing with sky-blue walls and a potted plant in one corner, with two doors on opposite sides. Nakim rapped three times on the left door.

Almost at once it swung outwards and a heavy object collided with him, two extensions wrapping around his neck. As he came to his senses, he deducted that it was a pair of uncomfortably tight human arms.

'... 'lo, Maosha,' he managed to wheeze before attempting to extricate himself.

Upon succeeding, he found himself in the presence of a girl of average height and build, with smiling brown eyes and thick chestnut hair. She was in pajamas; it appeared that it was a little later than he had suspected.

'I haven't seen you in what, a year and a half, two years? Oh gosh, you've gotten taller again, I swear you have, I mean it used to be less than a head's difference and now I look like a dwarf in comparison again, and I could have sworn you're not off duty again until winter, but then again I'm not too clear on the schedule and I'm bad enough as it is at keeping my own calendar--'

Nakim raised a hand to stop her gushing and allow Jun to step out from behind him. Maosha's face became a picture of complete bewilderment.

'Nakim, why is there a six-year-old standing next to you? I swear, if you've gone and kidnapped one of your CO's children again--'

'Look, Maosha, it's a pretty long story, so can we please just come in? Jun here's spent a bit too much time away from food and sleep.'

'Well, fine, but you'd better have a good explanation for all this!'

She turned and disappeared into the apartment. Nakim and Jun followed suit.

They found Maosha in the dining room with drinks prepared, and gratefully took the seats she offered. Jun immediately began to doze off again; his ability to sleep was truly commendable.

'So,' said Maosha. 'What exactly is going on?'

Nakim gave the full story, from his last fateful, frenzied battle to his meeting with the Old Man, and then his journey through the city with Jun. Maosha's attitude softened as more events were revealed, and she gave a long, sympathetic look to Jun.

'So you found him completely alone? No friends or family?'

'Not one sign of any other people at all, until the Old Man rescued us.'

'And you've basically been kicked out of the army?'

'Kicked out is a bit of a harsh-'

'So you were kicked out of the army.'

Nakim slumped and hung his head in shame.

'Well, you did bring it on yourself, Nakim. And the way I see it, this way you can actually stay alive, and go see the world and do all the things you'd never get a chance to-'

Nakim snapped back into animation. He abruptly found himself irritated by his predicament. 'The only chance I want is the chance to **fight!**'

Maosha was taken aback by his sudden aggression. 'N-Nakim?'

Nakim's craving for adrenaline overtook him; he felt furious at the Ymir, at Hector, at Gimmy, at everyone who had brought this situation on him. 'I've spent my life going out there and risking my neck, getting hospitalized every other weak, pouring every drop of blood, sweat and tears into just holding these things at bay - and for what, Maosha?! **For what?! For this?!**'

Maosha was increasingly intimidated. 'I don't know what you-'

'What have I been fighting for? What the hell have I been sacrificing my humanity for?!'

'Y-you don't know? But then why did you-'

Nakim ground his teeth. 'I lied to myself all this time. Told myself I was doing it for love and freedom and all that stuff - but that was all crap. I did it because I was addicted, because it's the only real joy I ever knew!'

'The only... wha-?'

'I don't remember a single real, honest, happy memory, Maosha. I don't remember meeting you - or any of my friends - and I don't remember peace. I only remember fighting, and killing - I remember the last years in the city, and escaping that dullness, and then it's all smoke and metal and blood! I don't know anything except the fight! That's why I have to get back up there, because it's the only place...' He choked. '... the only place I'll ever belong.'

He was breathing heavily, determinedly ignoring even the Old Man's words. The agony of restriction was killing him. 'I need to get out of here,' he murmured.

'You don't remember?'

Nakim looked up. Maosha was inexplicably on the verge of tears.

'Remember what?'

'You don't remember... w-where you grew up?'

'No. What of it? All it means is one more thing that makes me a psycho.'

Maosha backed away. 'Who... who are you?'

Nakim flared up again. 'You know damn well who I am!' He got to his feet. 'I'm the guy who left his friends so he could go and shoot things!'

He turned and stormed towards the door, desperate to escape this miserable trap. He was useless, purposeless, and that was why he fought; it was the only way a man with no memories, no meaning to his life, could justify his existence.

'Naki-'

Nakim's final words were hollow and despairing. 'I saw one thing in this life that made me think it was worth living. And you can't find it for me. No one can.'

He opened the door and left.

* * *

A/N:

Yeah, Nakim's been repressing some stuff.

All will be explained in due time, but next chapter begins the REAL story, so stay tuned!


	5. Chapter 5: The Face Of Carnage

**Chapter 5: The Face Of Carnage**

The tension within _Icarus _was thick enough to cut with a knife. Breaths were held, pulses raised, and a general sense of fear and anticipation brooded within the station's gloomy corridors.

Nowhere was it more intense than one of the station's central meeting chambers, in which assorted senior officers sat at a vast, gleaming chrome table, fixated on the giant screen before them.

General Gimmy was the only living thing in the room managing to keep signs of stress from showing; his expression was one of quiet determination, an iron mask that was starkly juxtaposedwith the frowns, grimaces and nervous eyes of his subordinates. His hands were motionless next to their trembling appendages. Lieutenant Hector, sitting towards the back, was biting his lip with anxiety; Colonel Ajax, on the general's right, reeked of roiling fury, his strong jaw set, scratching vindictively at his beard.

There was a reason for this crushing suspense.

They were about to make contact with the enemy for the first time.

Every so often, the screen would flicker, a signal disruption; half of those gathered would jump, startled by even the slightest disturbance.

Another feeling present in the chamber was one of great curiosity. For years now there had been contact with extraterrestrials of all shapes and sizes, if barely any encounters. But this belligerent race was a whole new kind of alien; they attacked without warning, and retreated just as abruptly, with no visible reasoning besides perhaps sheer bloodlust. To a race used to a variety of motivations for violence, from avarice to pride to protective instinct and everything in between, this singleminded aimlessness was unique and mystifying. To gaze upon the countenance of the Ymir and hear his words would solve what was, for these military men and women, a mind-boggling riddle.

At last light blared from the screen, sending ripples through its audience - eyes widened, breaths were gasped in, and Gimmy ground his teeth together, resolute.

For a moment, the assembly was hushed, and then he appeared.

Man looked at last into the eyes of his mortal foe.

What had appeared on the screen was something no one had expected. A myriad hypothetical, monstrous shapes for this being had run through their heads in flights of fancy, but none had even been close to the reality.

The Ymir was eerily beautiful, a tall, slender humanoid, skin pigmented with molten moonlight - a lustrous silver. Coal-black hair fell past his shoulders, and amid his sharp features sat two eyes gleaming with a playful malice, their pupils strangely wide and their crimson irises narrow.

The Ymir laughed a cold, cruel laugh and spoke in a voice that echoed his laughter's sentiments.

'You are every bit the shambles I expected, apes.'

Gimmy stood and responded curtly. 'It would do you well to exercise more restraint in your negotiations, ambassador.'

The Ymir smirked. 'Oh, but of course, I must be civil. After all, I have little to hold against you humans.'

Gimmy hesitated for once, confused. The alien continued.

'I suppose introductions are in order. Ladies and gentlemen, I am Baldr, High Commander of the Ymir raids and general representative for my race and its leader.'

Gimmy nodded. 'I am General Gimmy, Commander In Chief of the Grapearl Armed Forces and Icarus Corps. With me is my immediate vice-commander Colonel Ajax and a select few senior officers.'

The Ymir stretched languidly on the chair upon which he sat, bringing his hands to rest on its metal arms.

'A pleasure to meet all of you, I'm sure. Now, do you wish to beat around the bush a little longer, or hear our demands?'

'I have just one question before we proceed. I am more than a little intrigued as to what you meant when you said you bore us little ill will.'

'Hate does not enter this affair for me; we fight, but not to erase each other. We fight because it is **glorious**.'

'If you had no ulterior motives, we would be meeting on the field of battle, not here. What do you want from us, High Commander Baldr?'

'My, we are in a hurry. To explain what we want from your measly little planet, rather than the fight offered by your finest soldiers, will require something of, ah, a history lesson, if you will.'

Gimmy was nonchalant. 'Feh. The more we know, the better, I suppose. Explain yourself, please.'

'Hehe... yes, that's what I thought. In that case, sit tight, monkeys, and I will tell you a story.'

* * *

'Untold millennia ago, a great empire was forged among the stars. Its rulers and inhabitants took care of their universe, protecting it and nurturing it, never abusing its laws. They were wise and enlightened, and for a long time they and the civilizations they took under their wing prospered. But as the years passed, they saw their wondrous achievement and grew proud. They became convinced that they and they alone had the power to choose the course of time and space; that the only right way was theirs.'

'They had harnessed an immense power in order to give birth to this domain - the power of evolution and survival instinct, the power of Spirals. But they saw that this strength was too great; if used unwisely, it would tear apart the universe. And so they turned in on themselves, creating seals and barriers in space, between dimensions, even in their own genes. They slipped forever into a deathlike sleep, and disappeared between worlds, leaving behind the dust of the universe's greatest cultural achievement.'

'In that dust, new empires were born, as the younger races harnessed Spiral energy and built better lives for themselves. These races were not always in agreement about the organization of their dimension, and so their progress was hindered. There was relative peace, besides the occasional skirmish, but the universe remained static, not knowing if it would ever again be blessed with the glory of its old masters.'

'Among the young races were distant ancestors of humanity... and also our own forbears, whole galaxies populated by nothing but heroes and conquerors. Eventually, these races decided to combine their strengths, and through this fusion of might, wisdom, art and science, they nearly resurrected the greatness that had once been.'

'But then... **he **emerged.'

'From beyond the limits of the cosmos, rising from hell's deepest maw, came a vengeful god, an invincible demon that wished to smite the stars. His ships and armies followed, raining terrible destruction even upon innocents and burning worlds alive, all for the crime of wanting to be something greater than themselves. A being that sought only to kill joy and hope and love and freedom... he was the worst of nightmares made incarnate, the Anti-Spiral.'

'And the young races, enamoured of their near-perfect creation, refused to let these things die. For the Anti-Spiral's transgressions, they were furious. Their anger and passion became strength that was only redoubled by their unified front. And near the forefront of the counterattack were the greatest of our ancestors.'

'There was Odin, the highest, a king who saw all with one eye; his other, so the story goes, was exchanged for his immense wisdom and foresight. There was Thor, an unbreakable mountain of a man that knew no fear. And last, there was Loki, the trickster, who tied the tongue of even the Anti-Spiral with sharp words and verbal traps. In addition, two great warships were forged through the blood and sweat of their people, weapons with unfathomable power. On the war's frontlines, they obliterated millions upon millions of the foe, weathering the storm even when they were forced on the defensive again and again. Eventually Odin and Loki matched their great minds and found a way into the very fortress of that hateful god of despair.'

'They charged triumphantly, and none could stand in their way. But in a single horrific instant, the Anti-Spiral quashed their hopes and revealed the full extent of his powers. Odin was slain first, and Loki was cast aside like a ragdoll. The great ships were flung across the firmament to rot forever, their crews dying slowly within. Last of all, Thor was defeated, but so great was his iron will that he survived to fight another day.'

'But the Anti-Spiral had had enough. He revealed the fate of the universe - a death more horrifying than any he could give the young races - if they continued the struggle, and as they despaired he put them out of their misery.'

'At the end of a long war of attrition, there were but a handful of survivors to carry on attempting to restore the universe. But now, he was watching, waiting, always ready to leap on those who became too powerful and crush them.'

'Iteration after iteration of this war took place in a vicious cycle. We, the Ymir, emerged to fight the Anti-Spiral, but even we were beaten and broken, forced to hide away and pray for salvation. In time we developed something of a sense of black humour, watching tide after tide of the Spiral armies break upon the iron walls of the Anti-Spiral's dominion.'

'We laughed at humanity as it failed again and again, disappearing for centuries after Lordgenome was made to grovel like some pathetic slave and accept the Anti-Spiral's wishes.'

'Until the impossible happened, and our laughter ceased.'

'From the miserable wreck that was your planet emerged a man who could slay the immortal and overpower the omnipotent. With his own drill carving a path through infinity, he did what the Spiral races' greatest leaders and wisest scholars had deemed utterly unthinkable. He obliterated the Anti-Spiral, breaking the terrible chains that strangled our universe. We rejoiced at the freedom we had been given, the freedom to create a universe where feelings and thrills were no longer sins in the eyes of its god. We had but one goal, to resurrect the glory of Odin's people - to reclaim our forefathers' legacy. And that legacy came to us in the form of two shipwrecks...'

'The universe's saviour disappeared, but it finally knew peace; still, we were restless, hungry for the miracles of the past. We managed to find and restore one of the ancestors' warships, but the other half of our key to that golden age remained shattered and useless. A part of it was missing, an ignition device named Dain. We put our entire technological output to the task of scanning for its Spiral frequency, and which planet did we find it on?'

'As you may guess, by a strange coincidence, it was your homeworld.'

'And so we are brought to the present. We, the Ymir, seek to revive an epoch of immense military and cultural achievement, an age of victory and courage not seen since the days before the Anti-Spiral. We will happily cease our violent transgressions upon your territory if you are willing to locate Dain and bring it to us.'

'You have one week in which to find this object. Know only that it will open the path to the World Tree.'

* * *

Baldr disappeared as soon as this demand had been made, leaving the assembly in shocked silence.

'Well,' rumbled Ajax after a long pause, 'they've made a mistake in asking for this piece of junk.'

Gimmy gave him a quizzical look.

'Don't you see, General? We have an advantage for the first time. We have something they don't. Don't you think this could be the answer we're looking for? The key to winning this war?'

Gimmy clenched his fists and tried to ignore the stabs of hope and excitement in his mind. 'We should not rest everything on what might just be inconsequential scrap... but I agree that if we found and used this, we could just have the upper hand.'

He turned to all of the gathered officers and cleared his throat.

'It seems we have been told many things we did not know, besides the many things we did. While the history of the Anti-Spiral wars was pieced together some time ago, the Ymir, their ancestors, this 'World Tree'... these are previously unseen threads. I would like to call for a force to be gathered and led by Colonel Ajax in order to solve this mystery.'

Gimmy smiled. 'Our enemy is no longer faceless and without weakness. We have seen his thoughts and feelings; we are hopeless no more.'

'Honoured officers, let us fight!'

Cheers were raised to the ceiling and echoed back down upon the soldiers, filled with newfound vitality.

Their true mission had begun.

* * *

Far below, a forlorn, dark-haired young man leaned against a crate full of machinery, quietly conversing with an aging engineer.

'Are you sure this is what you want, Nakim?'

'... Jun is better off without me. Everyone here is. Maybe... just maybe... if I reach the stars again, I might find myself.'

'Well, I can't do anything to stop you. But please, be careful.'

'I will.'

'It's at boarding ramp 2057, primed for outer-space takeoff. Good luck.'

'I can't thank you enough, Leite.'

'You will, someday. Now get going, we're not exactly acting within the law here.'

The young man nodded and strode purposefully into the night.

Some time later, Leite looked up and saw a gloomy figure rise into the night sky. 'Godspeed, Nakim,' she whispered to herself, watching him race onwards and upwards, preparing to pierce the heavens.

* * *

A/N: Yeah, big infodump this chapter, but at least the ball is rolling now.

Naming conventions in this story will make some more sense if you have at least some understanding of Norse mythology.

Let the plot begin!


	6. Chapter 6: The Pieces Are In Place

**Chapter 6: The Pieces Are In Place**

Like a great emerald in the centre of a sheet of velvet, there was a serene beauty to the planet Ajax looked down upon. Most of the sphere was a deep, lush green, swathes of stone blanketed by grasslands and forest. In all his time in space, even when he had first looked back at his homeworld, he had never seen such a dreamlike image - it appeared more like a work of fine art than reality. It was a blessing upon humanity that such a planet as Ithaca could exist.

It was understandable that there would be Ymir here - as a world with few human settlements and vast amounts of usable terrain and resources, it was almost begging to be used as a hideout. This did not make the alien presence any less distressing. Ajax swore that he would cleanse this jewel of a world.

He turned to his bridge crew, standing at his fullest height. He was an impressing sight indeed - tall and brawny, his strong jaw thickly bearded, he was the very image of masculinity. A scar ran over one eye, extending towards his bald pate. Hanging off a single shoulder, a long, trailing red cape was draped over his military uniform. General Gimmy's right hand demanded the instant respect of anyone who stood before him, and his orders went unquestioned even by the unruliest of soldiers.

He addressed the crew with an air of authority, one rather becoming of such a leader.

'I'd like to have access to ship-wide communications, please.' The crew wordlessly complied, and the Colonel cleared his throat.

'Servants of humanity, the situation has become more complicated than it first appeared. We still have a great many mysteries to unravel, and we believe the answers may dwell in the untamed wilderness of Ithaca. As you know, three units have returned home with the intention of tracking down the device referred to by the Ymir as 'Dain'. But with three days of searching and scanning proving fruitless, it is time to take action.'

'We know for a fact that a sizeable company of Ymir are stationed somewhere in Ithaca, hidden far from the settlements. Their lack of aggression, however, leads me to believe they are on a reconnaissance mission, or aim to protect an area or object on the planet's surface. This interest in Ithaca prompts the further conclusion that Ithaca bears some connection to the Ymir, and perhaps their most closely guarded secrets.'

'The Ymir ambassador spoke of a 'World Tree', which is an even greater pointer to Ithaca's significance, it being the heavily forested biosphere that it is.'

'Our mission is to affirm the positions of the main concentration of Ymir and whatever they are searching for or protecting. Following this, we may be forced to enter combat, and in this case a small-scale engagement is unlikely. It is for this reason that I would like to have every scout, fighter and technician with me on the surface. The success of this task will most probably depend upon the amount of manpower and resources put into it.'

'You all have a job to do. We make planetfall in two hours and fourty-three minutes. Be prepared. The fate of our race may rest upon the result of this mission!'

Ajax signed off comms and took a seat. He sighed.

He was exhausted; sleep had not been an option with all the tactical and strategic meetings he had been required to hold or attend. But still he burned with the hope of finding a chink in the Ymir's shell, a single weakness or weapon to exploit, a masterstroke that would bring this tiresome conflict to a swift close.

And as much as he wanted to wipe out the barbarian horde, he would get a damn good fight out of the whole ordeal.

* * *

The cosmos held a coldness and solitude that Nakim had never known before. If there was one thing of which he was sure, it was that he was alone now; he had alienated and fled from everyone he had ever known.

Yet still he surged on, yearning for victory.

A console at the fore of his cockpit was teeming with maps, charts, figures and statistics, every gear spinning to find the Ymir. He had resolved to bring burning justice upon them, even if he was alone, even if it was his fate to crumble before their might. It was all he had left; a fierce desire to kill or be killed.

Minutes flickered by, any lonely echoes of life achingly far away.

The events of the past few days ran through Nakim's head. The disastrous attack on _Icarus_. The orphan. The Old Man. He had cast them all aside, ignoring their words, his true, savage self rising to the surface. He was no better than the alien horde, his only motivation a single-minded, base animal instinct to inflict pain and injury on his enemies.

Was he beyond salvation?

Minutes turned into hours, the passage of time dilating and contracting, becoming amorphous; Nakim was too lost in his own self-pity to check where and when he was. When he came to, he was shocked by the breathtaking sight of Ithaca ahead, the field of his next fight. It was a little tragic that the struggle would take place on a stage so beautiful, but Nakim had lost any grasp on the concept of beauty. Another man might be awed at that moment by the wonder that was Ithaca, but Nakim simply plunged towards the stratosphere.

A feeling of deja vu struck him as he sailed down through layers of air and cloud. Hopefully he would pull off a more successful landing this time.

Clear blue skies stretched as far as the naked eye could see, pockmarked by clusters of vapour. Beneath was a verdant carpet of unrestricted, uncontrollable wilderness, vast expanses of every shade of green imaginable. Nakim took a little time to inspect the scenery before breaking through the treetops.

His descent became chaotic, manoeuvres difficult; his vision was obscured by the darkness of the forest, and the sound of metallic scraping and the snapping of branches could be heard. The Grapearl shook heavily as it landed, smacking hard against some sort of smooth surface with a splash, before being sucked into whatever it had landed in at an alarming rate. It halted just before its upper torso became submerged.

Nakim peered groggily out of the cockpit. There was a gap in the trees above through which sunlight poured past evergreen leaves. All around him was dense woodland, some parts of it suffocatingly dark. Massive trees with blackened bark rose above the rest of the canopy here and there. The wall of noise created by his clumsy arrival had been replaced with the gentle burble of fresh water.

Nakim had landed in a small river, flowing down from some faraway hills.

With a sigh, he struggled onto the left bank and paused to recuperate. His entry had been better than the last time, but still not exactly enjoyable. Looking over his maps and tracking devices, he observed that he was still tens of miles from the Ymir camp, and hundreds away from any trace of human civilization. However, a mass of new signals were appearing, just outside the forest he had landed in, making their way along the hillsides. He decided to cautiously find and analyze this new presence - it could be a valuable ally or just another threat.

As his Grapearl rose to its feet, a deep rumble was emitted from behind him.

A monstrous creature had chanced upon his location, an almost lupine beast with rubbery, obsidian skin, the frame of a wolf, strong legs, a short muzzle and undoubtedly powerful jaws. It was massive, as tall at the shoulder as many full-grown men, and as long as the Grapearl was tall. Nakim froze as soon as he saw it, completely thrown off by the sheer size and menace of this animal. He began to back away slowly, but the carnivore pounced regardless, hurling him off his feet. He landed heavily in the river.

He supposed it was his fault for his inelegant landing that this thing had been alerted to his presence, but Nakim was still determined to stay alive, and as the creature followed him into the river he sprang upwards, launching a fist into its chin. It was blasted away by the hard, metallic collision, slamming against the riverbank, sending chunks of earth sliding into the water. Nakim followed up with a sharp kick to the beast's side. It whined and began to retreat.

Nakim decided that these two blows had been enough; the wolflike monstrosity had been sharply informed that this war machine was a legitimate threat. But to his surprise it suddenly assumed a more aggressive stance, releasing a harsh snarl from its throat. It seemed to have become fixated on a point past the Grapearl's shoulder. Warily, he turned a little in order to peer behind him.

He was almost deafened by a mighty bellow, a vocal challenge with the force of a sledgehammer behind it.

On the opposite bank, another animal was standing its ground, an even more titanic organism that towered above the Grapearl itself. This one had a build and appearance similar to a nastier, more brutish evolutionary variant of the grappopotami from his homeworld, with a heavy shell on its back and legs literally as thick as particularly stout tree trunks.

The beast lumbered forward, forcing Nakim to hurl himself out of the way. The wolf-creature, realizing that its bluff had been called, fled, leaving Nakim alone with this belligerent mountain of muscle.

Before he could think it turned and hit him with the strength of a hurricane. As he spun downriver, the vicious giant charged, momentum carrying it at terrifying speed. Nakim ground to a halt and prepared to counter, launching himself at the oncoming avalanche of pure brawn.

As soon as the two met, Nakim's Grapearl was sent tumbling away once again, the beast remaining completely undamaged. Nakim felt a rush begin to fill him, one he had missed immensely.

It was not fear that he felt, or desperation, or even excitement; it was fury, a smouldering wrath created by the humiliation of being flung around like a ragdoll by nothing more than a dumb animal. Nakim drew his heaviest firearm and spat hot lead at the rampaging artiodactyl.

This time it knew pain, its limbs grazed and scored by bullets. Adrenaline hurled Nakim forward, drawing a second weapon and hailing bullets upon the monster. As he advanced, the ungulate bellowed again and began to shy away, its ludicrously tough hide failing it. As it began to withdraw, Nakim slowed his rate of fire until he stopped, dropped to his knees and began to make an attempt at regaining his breath.

It was just his luck to arrive at the most inhospitable part of the planet.

* * *

All Ajax could see, standing at the front of a great column of Grapearls, were miles of grass quivering in the cool wind. From his opened cockpit he sucked in an invigorating breath; the air here could revitalize a sick man in seconds. Heavily shaded woods stood at the grassland's fringes, and to one side of Ajax, hills rolled and tumbled down onto the fields.

'I adore this planet!' he roared across comms. 'I think I may just settle down here when I retire!'

'Colonel, this is hardly the time,' said the exasperated woman on the other side of the channel.

'Now, now, General, you know me,' Ajax yelled, zest for life destroying his volume control. 'I find a way to enjoy every campaign, this one will be no exception.'

'Yes, but normally your 'enjoyment' comes from the thick of the fight, not a mass of overly-picturesque scenery.'

'Whoever said every campaign's the same? Now, if you want to get this conversation on track towards something productive, spit out your goddamn orders!'

'Honestly, you're like a child on holiday... listen, I want you to continue as you were, but find a settlement or defensive position before any major engagement. The planning for the central battle has undergone some revision; my brother wants me to bring you some reinforcements, so stay on the defensive until I arrive. Is that clear?'

'Ohoho, General Darry, you want to smash some heads too?'

'I suppose you could say I have missed frontline combat a little, yes.'

'Well, fear not. We'll find a spot to shore up a while. It'll give me more time to admire the view!'

'You're impossible. General Darry, out.'

The fizzling of a broken connection replaced Darry's voice. Ajax laughed and turned to his men.

'Men, I have an announcement to make!'

The assembled soldiers waited expectantly for their leader's words.

'This is going to be the greatest campaign in recent history!'

* * *

At the summit of a nearby hill, two dim shapes crouched, watching and listening intently. They were mechs, locked in gunmetal armour, humanoid in shape, with large, curved spines running along the sides of their limbs. Their heads bore cold, red eyes and helmets with vicious horns on either side.

They saw the apes' leader's grandstanding, the cheers of his men, and the call to organize for the next march, but these things were useless, trivialities that held no intrigue for them. No, they skimmed the speeches and rallying cries, picking out and recording every mention of a time or a place, everything that could be construed as a fact or a figure.

As the humans began to march, the Ymir slipped away and over the hills. When the monkeys arrived on their doorstep to strike at them, Odin's heirs would be ready.

* * *

A/N:

I think I may need to start fighting my compulsion to end everything with a cliffhanger. Still, there'll be some resolution at last in a few chapters.


	7. Chapter 7: Threads Intertwine

**Chapter 7: Threads Intertwine**

Nakim's inner turmoil was beginning to drive him insane. It was as if he had two minds, the mind of an unfettered daredevil and the mind of a tortured pessimist. He had thrown aside the Old Man's words of hope, yet he had listened to his advice to travel to the stars and take action.

This decision had brought him here, scrambling through trees and vines, struggling to get out of the forests. He had decided he preferred the flatter parts of this planet.

Always he monitored his radars and tracking devices, keeping tabs on the positions of the Ymir and the mystery arrivals. These newcomers had taken an unexpected turn, perhaps seeking a less vulnerable position, and it was them that Nakim was attempting to keep up with.

As he climbed and staggered the gears in his head turned and turned, fervently trying to quash the chaos within. Once again the last few days ran through his head. Jun. Maosha. The city. The deserts. The leaves and trees...

A strange longing emerged within him, a desire to ascend these trees, to take refuge among the leaves and branches. Why did he have this bizarre craving for the arboreal world? His thoughts moments before about being sick and tired of the trees only reminded him of the awful contradictions within him that eroded his psyche moment by moment. Who was he, and what was he doing here?

Back home the world had made more sense. Remembering this, Nakim emerged at something of a resolution. He would return home after this fight; to run away from the last people he held dear was an act of cowardice and self-pity, an act once again heavily contradictory to his nature.

He broke through the edge of the trees. He had achieved a little clarity again, as he had after the Old Man's story. Perhaps it was an effect of the leaves upon him; nature's serenity granting him respite from his delirium.

The only thing he knew for sure at that moment was the identity of the mystery army.

It was none other than a battalion's worth of Grapearls of the Icarus Corps, Colonel Ajax's striking, regal mech visible at its head.

* * *

In Ajax's mind at least, there was no finer machine in the Icarus Corps than Aianteia, save perhaps Gurren Lagann itself. The gold binding of its scarlet exterior gave it an appearance of strength and nobility, as befitted its mighty pilot. It bore twin weapons, a pair of vast, curved blades that shone with a brightness that evoked sunlight reflected by the sea. Beneath its imperial brow was a coal-black visor that displayed no emotion other than calm determination.

It was a sight to behold, marching as it did at the head of hundreds of titans forged from steel.

'Is there still no sign?' he asked his nearest aide.

'No, sir, according to our charts there are still several miles before it will be visible on the horizon, sir.'

'Hmmmm.'

They were heading to Djerba, the so-called 'village of the lotus eaters' - it was one of the world's more noticeably peaceful settlements, sheltered at the top of a towering ridge that overlooked an unfathomably vast plain known only as Odyssey's End. It was a fitting title for what would most likely be the staging ground for any significant conflict with the Ymir.

Ajax's patience wore thin as the day rolled on, and he barked at his force to increase its pace. The loyal troops did so unquestioningly, their respect and devotion towards their leader overriding any other concerns - allowing a stranger to slip into the ranks unnoticed.

At last the forested slopes that concealed Djerba became visible, and Ajax allowed the group to pause and rest. He took advantage of this downtime to begin scouting for the Ymir's objective.

'Diomedes. Come in, Lieutenant Diomedes.'

'Sir!'

'I need you to sweep the area surrounding the Ymir camp - it's a good idea to leave now when we're still a little closer to it. Report anything of interest that you find, any strategic locations, anywhere they're particularly active, any excavations or projects, anything. Please hurry.'

'Yes, sir.'

For the first time, Ajax began to feel a twinge of unease. They had no idea what the Ymir were planning; an attack could come at any moment, and they would not be in a defensive position. Getting to Djerba was an urgent matter; the safety of the natural defenses and high ground outweighed the disadvantage of having to force-march the army once again.

'Men! I'm sorry, but we'll have to cut this rest short. I'm starting to get a little suspicious that things have been so quiet. Full steam ahead, and all - we have to fortify as soon as possible.'

Tiredly but obediently, the battalion got up to resume its journey.

* * *

Desert heat wore away at the already frustrated, exhausted Jet. He was roasting in his cockpit, his Grapearl's feet pulled and weighed down by shifting sand.

'Kaidomaru, how are you not melting already?'

'It is prudent not to react to the current atmospheric temperature, otherwise its adverse effects will simply worsen.'

'We're getting cooked alive either way! How much longer is this going to take?'

'Jet,' said Hector, grinding his teeth, 'this would be over more quickly if you would apply yourself instead of complaining childishly.'

Jet frowned. 'If you guys aren't picking up a thing, it's not like I'll be able to find any signals.'

'Jet, you have a certain degree of competence. The days of Nakim's idiocy jeopardizing every assignment are over; don't try to pick up his slack.'

'You're seriously happy he's gone? After all the times he saved our asses?'

'You are in the minority here, Private. Isn't that right, Minayo, Kaidomaru?'

'Jet,' said Minayo sternly, 'following his example will only bring us down. He was... irresponsible.'

Kaidomaru promptly agreed. 'There is no logic in following his thought processes. Just because this is not a combat situation does not mean it is any less significant or difficult. This is as much of a test of your abilities as a fight to the death.'

Jet rested his forehead on one hand. 'I can't believe you guys. You seriously call this genuine military duty? Where's the excitement, the suspense, the thrills?'

'Left back with your childhood,' barked Hector. 'Now get going, or so help me I will leave you in the dunes to bake in the midday sun!'

Jet grumbled a little and returned to his radar.

Colonel Ajax had only given a minimal explanation of their objective - whatever 'Dain' was or did, only the higher-ups knew. Their job was to find and secure a location, nothing more; they were toiling away at this ludicrously dull mission with no reason or motivation given besides Hector's ambition and sycophantic desire to please his superiors.

Minayo, ever a voice of sanity and reason, made a suggestion. 'Maybe we should try searching nearer the city?'

Hector brushed off the idea. 'We all know the signal would only be confused by all the energy exchange there.'

'But we're finding nothing out here!'

'We aren't looking hard enough. It must be somewhere-'

'I think,' said Jet in a biting, impatient voice, 'that the Corporal speaks sense. Where else would you hide a piece of machinery with that kind of signature? If it were out in the desert it would be glaring right in our faces. As it is, the suns doing enough of that.'

'Very well. If you are going to do nothing but whine petulantly while you're out here, you can head for the city. Enjoy your empty-handedness.'

Relieved at being able to get out of that hellish wasteland, Jet raced away without a second thought, spurred on by visions of blissful shade and rest. His annoyance at his squad dissipated, outweighed by his relief at leaving the scorched expanses. He traveled as fast as he could, not stopping until he had reached the capital's border.

* * *

On Ithaca, the afternoon had worn on, until the fresh sky began to dim. The main Grapearl body was most likely arriving at Djerba, safe to watch and wait.

Diomedes and his scouts slipped as swiftly and silently as they could into the murky foliage of the forests, and began to run a wide ring around the Ymir concentration. Speed was of the essence, even more than stealth; it was only a matter of time until the aliens found them, given the amount gathered somewhere in the forest's heart.

The black shapes of unknown flora and fauna flickered by; so far they were evading detection by unfriendly wildlife or the enemy. They evaded the black masses with calculated precision, mapping out paths into the unfamiliar terrain ahead, slipping behind trees and ledges in order to escape visibility. Dio was increasingly tense and alert as the sun slipped away, aware that the increased protection offered by the darkness did not take away the strong likelihood of being caught unawares.

This attention to their surroundings and potential dangers pushed the actual task of finding the Ymir objective from his mind. Their mission was to locate and identify, not to record or examine, so it would be quite easy to accomplish once they stumbled upon the mysterious beacon calling to the Ymir. Nevertheless, it was a vital assignment, and the actual point of landing on this unrestrained, terrifying planet.

Dio's sense of time disappeared, his life beginning to pass in metres; he covered distance after distance, still encountering nothing, waiting for a sign of some sort of interest. The tense, static atmosphere was beginning to suffocate him.

Minute by minute, metre by metre, they made their way toward the forbidden goal. Dio gritted his teeth; it was far too quiet. The feeling that someone was watching crept over him, and he signaled to his men to move more slowly, coiling themselves in preparation for combat.

They paused at the next clearing, taking shelter at its edge. Rain began to filter down through the gloom.

Dio opened comms once again. 'Colonel!'

'Bring me up to scratch, Lieutenant.'

'Nothing yet, at least nothing we haven't seen before. I'm almost certain they're onto us, though. I've stopped so they don't catch anything about where we're going; hopefully we can deal with any patrols before we continue.'

'Please do. Report back if you find anything, or encounter resistance. We're still keeping tabs on your location.'

'Thank you, sir.'

Dio gave another signal; he and his squad assumed a defensive formation at the heart of the clearing.

'Come on then, you bastards,' he snarled. 'Come out and face us like men.'

Wordlessly, the grotesque, horned shapes of Ymir mechs pounced upon them. Dio, expecting the assault, batted one aside and wasted no time in emptying precise gunshots onto the back of another. His role as a scout did not preclude his being dangerous in combat, and he would make sure the Ymir knew that.

The scouts launched themselves into close quarters like animals, aware that this fight was life or death - and with the mission itself in question, possibly bore even more gravitas than that.

* * *

The mask of night was beginning to slip over Djerba. Perimeters had been established, the locals reassured, and minor camps and fortifications built. Most Grapearls were scattered and nestled in the trees. Overlooking the now-shadowed plains from a towering outcrop of rock, Aianteia and the machines used by Ajax's immediate guard rested, finally granted respite from the day's marching.

The rain had truly begun to pour, muffling any sonic communication and detection in the area; Ajax had been forced to sit and wait, praying that Diomedes and his men could make it to the objective by dawn.

In his mind, he ran over his bluff once again.

He wanted to flush the Ymir out of their hole in the woods, and divert their attention from Dio and his vital mission. But he knew simply waving himself at the enemy from Djerba would be too obvious; he refused to underestimate the Ymir, assuming that they were the worthy opponents he hoped they were. After all, without a decent challenge, there would be no excitement, no question as to whether they would win, or how they would do it.

No, it was better that they became aware of Dio first, suspected that he had come from somewhere else and traced the humans back to Djerba. They would assume the main force's location, concealed as it was, bore greater priority, shifting focus to a fight at Odyssey's End. Whether they would triumph there was left in greater doubt; if there was one thing the Ymir had perfected, it was the application of force, and with competent leadership on the other side there was a good chance Ajax would lose that battle.

But when the chips were down, it was up to Diomedes and Ajax to defend themselves and complete their individual objectives to the best of their ability.

* * *

The air had cooled significantly by the time Jet returned to the city, and he breathed and moved more easily. Retreating from the harsh elements was a sweet relief. He skidded to a halt next to checkpoint going into the city itself, whereupon he prepared to doze away the remainder of the search, content in the knowledge that his more diligent teammates would carry on regardless.

He decided to run one last scan in order to avoid accusations of slacking.

A city map appeared on his Grapearl's console, criss-crossed with many streets and punctuated by important buildings and landmarks. Nothing appeared to out of the ordinary. Jet lay back for his nap, letting out a small yawn.

An intermittent bleeping sound disturbed his relaxation.

To his shock, a blinking icon had appeared on the city map. There, in the heart of the city somewhere, was their long searched-for target, a single yellow flashing light that stood out from the map's warm blue glow.

He had found the Ymir's precious artifact. He had found Dain.

* * *

A/N:

Very sorry for the late update; a combination of holidays and illness have prevented me from writing as much as I should. As consolation, Chapter 8 will be up early.

It's also a very special chapter - for the first time the alien menace will be thrust into the spotlight, and our central antagonist introduced!


	8. Chapter 8: Demented Divinity

**Chapter 8: Demented Divinity**

In the very recesses of Ithaca's forests, nature ceased to vibrate with life. Brooding decay prevailed here, in the unwanted world. Hisses, rustles, and the distant, violent calls of the forest's most hideous denizens broke through the throbbing silence, lending an unsettling edge of fear to the morbid scene.

It was here in the very pits of the beautiful world, a twisted mirror image of the serene landscapes beyond, that the Ymir dwelled, unafraid of the cruel boundaries of nature. All light was choked away by the suffocating trees, save for the smouldering of hateful crimson eyes from the still, stern, mechanical countenances of humanoid masses strewn among them. Here and there, on the branches and ground, were temporary constructs such as tents, offering shelter and rest to the towering, slender, argent-skinned men that had made this grim site their home.

At the camp's heart lurked a heavyset mech, gigantic cylindrical cannons suspended from its arms, an expression suffused with malice fixed upon its iron bearded mask. Within the walls its helm sat a fighter and leader of unmatched brutality, undisputed master of the Ithacan raiders.

This mech was called Gjallarhorn, and its pilot went by the name Heimdall, and the title Herald of the End.

Heimdall was perturbed. The apes had arrived sooner than expected, with their central body contained in a difficult position for him to assault; the arrival of a smaller party of humans nearby had also thrown him off. Whatever they were playing at, he needed to prioritize his target. If the nearby squad were saboteurs or some kind of elite strike force, they were not to be dealt with lightly; at the same time the larger, better-defended force at Djerba posed a far more obvious and immediate threat, that could quite likely secure the sacred sites here with ease.

But the humans were not without weaknesses; without the fearsome Gurren Lagann and its pilot at their head or any orbital support, they were susceptible to being attacked in numbers, having no access to mass anti-personnel weaponry. Still, he needed to consult the highest authorities; he could not misjudge the next move.

'It is time,' he stated emphatically to his underlings. 'Bring me before the emperor.'

* * *

In the loneliest, emptiest reach of space, through the shattered wrecks of planets, drifted the very symbol of malignant potency, the Ymir's great ancestral fortress-ship. Its shape was vague, obscured by its surface's resemblance to a black hole or vacuum; completely black, any hue sucked away from it. An aura of crushing, fearsome might extended from it, filling the asteroid fields with a near-tangible dread, of war and death. All was silent but for a few metallic echoes.

Through the tunnels and up the stairs that led to this monstrosity's peak, where the throne room itself lay, marched Baldr, briskly and purposefully, green silken cape billowing behind him. The ship's silence was oddly exciting to him. It evoked a sleeping beast, dormant, inactive, with little hint of the primal glory that would be unleashed upon its awakening. Only a creation such as this, once flagship to Odin himself, could bring about that transition. He awaited the day this apocalyptic weapon could be revealed with fervent anticipation.

He climbed flight after flight, beginning to make his way up a great obsidian spire to the sanctum of his imperishable master. Every step brought a forbidding ring, like the peals of ominous bells announcing the bloody aftermath of some immense massacre. Every step lifted him a little closer to the closest thing his race had left to heaven on earth.

Finally he emerged before a breathtakingly large pair of brazen doors, centuries of wonder reflected in the metal that lined them. With a breath, he gave them a heave, and they slowly swung outwards. He entered the throne room.

Stepping out into the long, cavernous room, the first thing he observed was the bright, sickly green of Heimdall's holographic projection, a face he had become familiar with - scarred, grizzled and framed by shaggy, spiky hair. But as he passed the projection, he arrived at the back of the room, looking upon as awe-inspiring sight as any an Ymir could hope to see in his life.

A crystalline giant stood tall above him, clad in ebon armour and cloaked in midnight. At its summit was an open cockpit, incredibly ornate - it resembled a throne far more than a piloting interface. The throne had a thick frame, entwined by charcoal thorns, its two horrifying arms ending in clawed hands. It was draped in velvet of a deep amethyst colour for the purpose of cushioning its occupant.

Slouched casually on this throne was the emperor of the Ymir himself: Tyr, the undefeated, a deific incarnation of bloodshed and victory.

Everything about Tyr's appearance commanded respect, even worship. He towered some eight feet above the ground, robes of a deep, royal purple flowing over his tall, brawny frame. A magnificent iron-grey mane cascaded down his back. His features possessed a rugged, masculine, handsome quality; his deep red eyes filled with pride, burning spirit, and indomitable confidence.

The Ymir leader let loose a deep, rumbling laugh from his powerful lungs as he noticed Baldr's entrance.

'Forgive me, Heimdall. My ever-present right hand cannot leave me to my own affairs for a single moment.'

He looked down at Baldr. 'What do you seek now? I have already given you your task. I imagine the divine nature of its appointment would give you a little more motivation to complete it, Baldr!'

'Your majesty,' said Baldr, 'surely you haven't failed to notice that the humans have refused to make good on their promise to bring Dain to us? Less than half of the time given has elapsed, and-'

'Ha!' boomed the emperor, uncaringly interrupting his servant. 'How coincidental that you should bring up the subject of the apes and their transgressions. Heimdall here was just talking about their meddling in the operations on Ithaca.'

Baldr directed his next query at Heimdall. 'Have you still found no pointers towards Dain's location?'

'No,' replied Heimdall, 'only that of the World Tree, which we already knew.'

'Hmmm.'

Heimdall continued. 'Your majesty, I am hesitant for the first time. The humans are proving as slippery as expected; they have formed twin threats, and we have no way to gauge their respective danger.'

'You say the largest concentration is esconced near Odyssey's End?' said Tyr.

'Yes, your majesty.'

'And that the strongest Spiral signature is somewhere in that contingent.'

'Yes, your majesty.'

Tyr paused for a moment, before carrying on. 'Heimdall, why... why would you chase and flap your hands in an attempt to catch hold of a few pathetic runner monkeys... when you could confront the men at Odyssey's End, and reignite glorious war?'

'Your majesty?'

'To raze the fields and slaughter your foes, to meet and slay the enemy's finest on the field of battle... that is what we live for. That is the one true meaning in this universe: wonderful bloodlust.'

Baldr and Heimdall watched as the emperor stood, rising to his full height.

'Let me tell you two a story. A little over a thousand years ago, I joined the crusade against the Anti-Spiral once again. Among the other Spiral leaders was the human named Lordgenome, a scientist and visionary as well as a warrior. I fought this man, seeking to test his mettle; my machine, Garm was matched by his, a fusion of two of the humans' old weapons, Ganmen - a fusion named Lazengann. It was a well-fought tie, and I had high hopes for the man. But I watched him crumble before the Anti-Spiral, a few years after I was cast into the Spiral graveyards. Do you know why he failed?

It was because he fought for pathetic ideals like 'hope', 'perseverance' and the 'betterment of humanity'. When the Anti-Spiral showed him the truth, the falsehood and fragility of these ideals, he turned to the great enemy's way of thinking - he became a tyrant, once again in the name of ideals and illusions: 'safety', 'security', and 'stability'. Tell me, is it worth living in a stable world if the status quo is one of perpetual torment?

I have lived for a long time. I have seen the slaughter of my friends and family, the near-extinction of my entire race, and let me tell you this. These 'ideals', these supposed 'paths toward a better tomorrow'?

They are complete and utter shit.

If we fight for hopes or ideals, for togetherness, for each other, we will simply see those things shattered, and suffer for it in turn. So why should we fight? The answer to that is simple.

We fight for the fight itself!

There is nothing greater or more noble than carnage. There is no greater triumph than heroic victory over our craven enemies. There is no rush greater than the excitement of knowing that you are struggling, kicking and screaming, that you refuse to accept your fate like a coward. There is nothing, not one object or concept in reality, that matches the simple beauty of war.

You ask what course to take, Heimdall? An easy question. Descend upon your adversary, and grind him into the dirt. Fight, kill, conquer, destroy. Take Baldr with you; meet the apes at Odyssey's End, and vanquish them.

I wish for nothing more than war. Even Dain, even the World Tree - those are far less important in reclaiming our ancestors' golden era. What we must do is restore the universe to its previous state - a time when we were free to fight until the end of days, to revel in strength and victory, to triumph over all that stood in our way. For so long, we have been shackled, slaves and puppets to the Anti-Spiral. Now he and his destroyer have disappeared. We are free. Freer than we have ever been before!

So what are we waiting for?! I will use that freedom! I will set the stars on fire! I will bring reality once more to eternal war! Whether this is the beginning or the end, I will fight until my last breath, and every life will do the same!

This is my intent, my one wish in life.

**I will take the great tapestry... and set it ablaze... AND EVERY BEING IN EXISTENCE WILL KNOW ONCE AGAIN... THE MAJESTY OF UNBRIDLED, UNRESTRAINED, GLORIOUS WAR!**'

* * *

The brooding contemplation of the forests had been broken. Out of the shadows at the periphery of Odyssey's End, the Ymir rose to set the fields awash with blood and ablaze with victory.

Ajax saw them coming, appearing in the distance one by one, too many to count. They were outnumbered, that was certain; his only hope was that they were not too outmatched, or Darry would find a field of slag and corpses upon her arrival.

The sun was beginning to rise, casting its hopeful light over the battlefield - a little ironic, as the battle's prospects did not seem particularly hopeful themselves.

But there was one true ray of light hear - the appearance of the enemy en masse meant that Ajax's ploy had worked - the Ymir had swallowed the double bluff. Things were far more clearcut and simple. Diomedes' task was now to make it to the objective and gather any significant information.

'Godspeed, Dio,' he whispered, preparing to issue the call to arms.

His task? Kill or be killed. The battle for Odyssey's End had begun.

* * *

A/N:

This chapter and the next may be a bit short, as they're taking a runup to Chapter 10, which, if all goes as planned, will be a mammoth.

For a rough visual guide to Tyr, imagine filler villain Dartz from Yu-Gi-Oh!, but with more masculine features and a significant difference in colours. Also much taller and bulkier.


	9. Chapter 9: Answers

Smoke. Everywhere, there was smoke. The ricochet of bullets pierced Dio's ears, the smell of molten metal reaching his nostrils. All hell had broken loose within that clearing, and now the scouts were scattered, blasted apart by the brute strength of the Ymir. Struggling to return to his senses, he shook himself. His head a little clearer, he got his Grapearl to its feet, and backed away in to the forest.

His men were just about holding their own; neither side gave any quarter, and the fight was intense and unpredictable. No one had gained the upper hand just yet, but Dio knew there and then that he would need to end this encounter quickly.

He drew up the sights for his most precise, long-range firearm, aiming carefully for the head of an Ymir mech that was clawing great rents in the skin of a pair of Grapearls. He pressed the trigger tightly, scoring a devestating shot into the cockpit itself. Moving as rapidly as he could, he shifted to a different location in the ring of thick vegetation surrounding the clearing.

The weakened Ymir had easily been finished by the two scouts. He set his sights next on a more thickset mech that was enduring great amounts of punishment from several of his company at once. This time he fired off multiple shots, aiming for the head and torso. This time it was more challenging - in the chaos of combat it was difficult to avoid striking down a member of his own side, unaware as the scouts were of their leader's sniping.

After managing to create a general weak point in the hulking walker's torso, he circled the clearing again, this time forced to avoid a pair of Ymir who had caught on.

He managed to fit a few more hit-and-run shots in, but he knew he was alerting the Ymir to his presence with this needling, debilitating fire, and so decided to abandon common sense as he had seen many great warriors do.

Dio raced back into the clearing, hollering loudly, and set into the more slim, frail mechs, snapping limbs with crushing downward blows and crippling the machines with furious uppercuts. One of the Ymir threw its arms around his Grapearl, sending both of them toppling to the floor. He reflexively rolled over, distracting the Ymir with the crushing bulk now pressing down on it, and hauled himself back up, using the momentum to throw the Ymir into one of its cohorts.

Wasting no time, he smoothly drew a pair of automatic rifles, pointing them outwards.

'Men, DUCK!' he roared.

The moment they dropped, he squeezed the triggers, tracing arcs of gunfire through the clearing, repelling the Ymir from the clearing's centre. Switching to a more aggressive stance, he fired forwards, crippling another mech.

'RISE!' he ordered.

As one, the scouts rejoined combat, meeting the Ymir with bullets and fists once again as Dio forced a stream of bullets into a larger, heavily armoured mech, slamming it into a tree and riddling it with holes from which black smoke and eager flames bled.

'Listen well, Ymir,' he said, without a single tremble in his voice, the shock of combat dispelling his previous nervousness and apprehension. 'You're screwing with the wrong unit here. These men have searched, run, hid and fought alongside me for a decade. When we are united we can move as one. Your barbaric application of overwhelming force cannot compete with these kinds of manoeuvres. Surrender now, and accept our demands, and you will be spared.'

The Ymir scouts' captain responded deeply and solemnly. 'Surrender. Hmph. I would only expect a human to tout such a pathetic, useless word as that. We fight to the death!'

'In that case, you have brought this on yourself.'

The scouts moved as one, just as he had said they would, firing and shifting position in synchronization; a deadly band of brothers, their teamwork honed to perfection. Not a single burst of fire was misplaced, and the Ymir armour was peppered with punched-in bullet holes. The aliens had been whittled down to just a few. Ruthlessly, they concentrated their fire on the enemy leader, crippling his mech, before entering close combat with the remainder. The fight ended as suddenly as it had begun, and for once the humans had scored a decisive victory; there had been too many stalemates and close calls when dealing with the invaders in the past.

* * *

The scout squad trudged along their cocentric circular path, more slowly and easily now, having dealt with their pursuers. They journeyed on through the heart of the night, until finally, in the early hours of the morning, they sensed their destination up ahead. The forest took on a strange quality, as if it was removed from the present, a piece of the distant past still preserved.

'This place...' breathed Diomedes. 'This is what they were looking for?'

They stood at the bottom of slowly ascending ground, littered with ancient, weathered stone entangled in dull vines and colourful shrubs. The half-light only added to the area's mystical feel, and the scouts were overcome by an odd peace mingled with a profound curiosity. This was not the Ithaca they knew. This was the Ithaca of ages past.

What could be here that captivated the Ymir so?

As they rose up the gentle slope, they moved further towards the hill's peak, which broke out of the trees to breathe in the open air. The scraps of stone began to be replaced by what were once recognisably the walls of marble buildings. The vegetation began to clear, the remains of pillars and statues appearing; evidence of a long-lost civilization.

'I think... I begin to understand...' remarked Dio. 'The Ymir ambassador talked of past splendour, and their ancestors' legacy...'

This was the true, living, beating heart of Ithaca. The colours were unnaturally vibrant, the sounds unusually clear. The air tasted sweeter than any he had ever encountered, and the grass softer. It was a place that felt divorced from reality, too good to be true. It was pure and unsullied by the wilderness. There were no brambles or vicious beasts; unearthly snarls were replaced by heartwarming birdsong and the gentle burbling of streams and brooks.

'This place is amazing..' said one of the men, stunned by the beauty of this gem.

There was no doubt in Dio's mind. They had arrived at the answer.

* * *

By the time they emerged at the summit, the first rays of sunlight were peeking down. A great carved slab of rock, still mostly intact and covered with indecipherable script, greeted them.

'This is more like it,' said Dio. He opened his cockpit and climbed down to inspect the writing more closely. 'Let's see if this writing can tell us anything about where the hell we are.'

'Any translators out there?' he called back to his men.

A pair left their Grapearls, dusting down their white bodysuits, and joined Dio.

'Do you think you could crack this?'

'Hmmmm,' said one, Soma, a pensive, introspective man with a short, stocky build and silver hair. 'I can't call myself familiar with alien alphabets, but...'

'As luck would have it,' said his tall, lanky, good-humoured counterpart, Akio, 'we've received written communication from the Ymir with a similar format. If we cross-reference that...'

'We won't be able to gather the exact wording, but we should be able to get the general gist of it,' concluded Soma. His redheaded partner nodded.

'Get to work, then,' said Dio. 'I'm going to go and see if I can find more.'

Dio continued twards the middle of the summit, noticing patches of what would once have been the settlement's floors appearing beneath his feet. He found scraps of text on some old signposts and wall remnants, but nothing that seemed significant, until he came to what would have been the building's very heart.

As soon as he saw it, he raced back to the translators, his heart pumping with excitement.

'Ah, you're back, sir,' said Akio. 'We've just about finished up a good three quarters of what's on here.'

'I think,' panted Dio, 'that I've found what we're looking for.'

'Eh?'

'What have you gathered?'

'Well, see this long chain of symbols here? We're pretty sure it translates to 'temple', so this structure at the summit is, well, yeah.'

'Carry on.'

'There's one down here we've managed to decipher, but we're not too sure what it actually means. It says at the very bottom, 'Mimir', and it shares a lot of characters with the word the Ymir use to denote themselves... but at the same time it could be a place or a person or a...'

'Well, we're not the research team, we're only trying to find out as much as we can. Now come, I have to show you this.'

He led them once again through the beautiful ruin, heading for the very peak of the hill, where he had found what seemed to be the very core of the odd, serene, nostalgic quality this crumbled temple bore.

They arrived before a pedestal, fashioned from the same rock as the walls, a marble-like substance. But the pedestal was not the object they sought. It was the two slabs of stone lying on top, covered in ageless writings, that radiated an immense power and mystique.

These tablets seemed to pulsate with an almost familiar energy, one of growth, creation, life and power - not too dissimilar from the times Dio had experienced Spiral energy. But Spiral energy still bore an element of the human in it - this was something otherworldly, something alien.

Soma was awed. 'Amazing... this may be our species' first experience of alien paraphernalia...'

Akio inspected the tablets closely. 'This one looks a little easier to translate, as well... I think parts are simply written with the Ymir alphabet, and this odd energy has most likely preserved the writings well beyond their natural span. Whoever wrote this wanted to keep it from erosion and decay... it must be important.'

'Alright, you two get on the translation. I'll have the rest of the company form a perimeter around the summit... the crux of our mission on Ithaca is right here, we can't afford to take risks,' said Dio.

He left again, as fast as he could, to the temple entrance where the scouts were gathered.

'Men! We've arrived at the goal itself. The last step is securing it until we can leave again. We need to organize a ring of sentries around the temple ruin specifically. Get moving!'

He clambered back up into his own Grapearl, making sure to keep a communication line open with the translators. He and his company hastily took positions at various map coordinates encircling the temple, standing alert and watchful once again. One could never be too careful.

'Thinking about it...' mused Dio, '...the Ymir have been all too quiet during the night passage. Perhaps Colonel Ajax's plan worked... but in that case...'

'Akio, Soma,' he said to the translators, 'we need to be quick about this. If my suspicions are correct the Colonel's initiated an engagement at the plains near Djerba, in which case he'll need all the help he can get.'

'Not to worry, sir, as soon as we've got the less familiar sections of writing out of the way it'll be a speedy job.'

'We won't have time to examine it - get back in your Grapearls as soon as you've transcribed everything.'

'By your command.'

He waited, a little impatient now. If the skirmish back in the forest was any indicator, a force of Ymir in numbers would be difficult even for a man like Ajax to deal with - and every additional man on his side wuld be helpful.

'Rrrgh,' muttered Dio to himself, 'their tactics are so very unsubtle...'

He tried to relax, letting the ruin's magic soothe him. To his surprise, it worked. The sight of the gentle, picturesque hilltop and the feel of its enchanting atmosphere did well in calming him. This was a gem of a planet indeed.

A few minutes later the translators were finished. 'Lieutenant Diomedes, sir! Everything's written down.'

'Very well. We'll present the translation to the Colonel. Perhaps he can work out the answers to this mystery. Mission successful, now move, move, move!'

The Grapearls rolled out, this time heading straight towards Odyssey's End.

* * *

As the Ymir appeared, little by little, slowly flooding the great plain, so did the men and women of Ajax's army, clambering down the steep slopes surrounding Djerba, beginning to abandon the cover of the trees. Unbeknownst to them, one of their number was not meant to be there at all, but he was defying reason and authority as always.

Nakim was almost trembling with excitement. This was what he had returned for; this would be the fight of his life. It was time for him to reaffirm his being, to participate once again in the thrill of battle. It was time to throw aside his self-doubt, purge confusion from his mind, and erase rational thought. It was time for him to kick ass.

The Grapearls landed one by one on the thick, rippling grass, amour glinting in the newfound sunlight. It was the perfect time, the perfect place, thought Nakim.

The two armies began to form ranks, the Ymir mass showing its superior size; there were nearly twice as many as the humans. But that was perfect in itself, a chance to triumph against the odds.

They were ready to break the unbreakable.

* * *

A/N:

At last our protagonist returns to the spotlight.

Weekly updates are restored. The Ithaca arc concludes next Sunday with Chapter 10, and if all goes well should provide a suitable climax.

Row, row, fight the power!


	10. Chapter 10: Odyssey's End

That day, as the sun's rays piereced the clouds, the sky seemed to split open. That day was to be a day of blood and thunder.

The suspense was stifling. The two armies aligned, facing each other. Breathing became lighter, heartbeats faster. Every man turned their thought to one question: who would make the first move?

The leaders of each cadre appeared at their heads. Aianteia, its burnished shell reflecting the morning light at blinding intensity, drew in front of its cohorts. Gjallarhorn thundered out from the ranks, as if to challenge the humans. Close behind it was another mech, adorned in green and gold, its armour carved with serpentine patterns. It hefted a long lance with a single wide blade tapering to an almost infinetisimally sharp point. This was Nidhogg, the All-Consuming Serpent, belonging to none other than Baldr himself, right hand to the god of war.

Ajax clenched his teeth, desperately trying to decide if he should assume initial offense or defense before his enemies reached a conclusion.

The lives of many were at stake, and they were horrendously outnumbered. It would be prudent to stand ground and bet everything on holding out for their reinforcements.

But since when had he particularly cared about prudence or caution? That was not bravery. That was not the man's way. No, it was time to act without fear, and throw the Ymir a curveball while they were at it.

He threw his voice towards the heavens in a primal scream that echoed with pure, righteous fury. There was not a trace of doubt; he was set in his intuitive decision.

One word. One word to ignite the inferno.

Charge.

* * *

Nakim physically launched himself towards the Ymir frontline with wild abandon, roaring like a wild beast. He ignored the opening salvoes that zipped past him; he had no wish to fight at any kind of distance. He drew his sword. He would fight them face-to-face, looking them in the eye as he cut them down one by one. His Grapearl's feet beat and thrashed the earth of Odyssey's End, sending great clods of soil flailing into the air, trampling the sun-kissed grass.

He paid no attention to the projectiles that struck him, shrugging off every blow as he hit the Ymir frontline. He had but one vision, the shape of the next target.

Crashing into the first rank, Nakim severed his first foe with one swing. Spinning round, he chose the next, batting aside its incoming fist and impaling it. He launched a kick into the next, which slammed it into yet another Ymir. Closing in, he finished them off with a pair of wild cuts. Another great cleave split apart a lighter, skinnier mech. Nakim laughed at its weakness. These fighters should have known better than to try and defeat one as invincible as him.

He was ecstatic. It was the moment he had yearned for ever since that last fight, and it was everything he had hoped for. Every blow brought a greater shock of satisfaction, and his laughter continued as he sundered mech after mech apart.

Not long after Nakim had broken through, hundreds of Grapearls waded into the melee, sharp edges and mighty fists brutalizing the surprised Ymir. They were as a lion attacked by a wildcat, momntarily taken aback by the courage and ferocity of their attacker.

Nakim continued to make his way through the Ymir, but in doing so was cut off from his allies. Blows rained down on him, but as they made contact, he knew what to do.

Smiling almost psychotically, he closed his eyes and brought to mind the most heroic images he could muster. One man surrounded, savagely beating away those assaulting him. A legion lifting their shouts far above, bellowing a challenge to the gods. A humble young miner, seemingly broken before a laughing king, obliterating his opponent with a burst of insane power.

Spiral energy rushed through his muscles, his nerves, and his veins, spinning outwards to fill the Grapearl itself. The bullets and blades bounced off its newly-hardened exterior, and with one swing of its arm he demolished multiple Ymir.

He did not mind that it was easy anymore. He loved it. It proved that he was strong, that he was the man he had told himself he was. But he knew that eventually he would have to aim higher - to exceed himself, to truly surpass the impossible.

He walked forwards, implacable, Ymir falling before his mere gaze, the ones that stayed pulverized by his confident assault.

He would take a thousand lives before he was satisfied.

How long Nakim lost himself in the fight, he could not guess. Ymir fell before his advance like raindrops, barely able to register their assailant. Nakim poured forth iron will into his Grapearl's suitably metallic body, giving it a truly phenomenal strength - an almost unnatural one, at that. But still he craved more. Spiral power could be pushed to levels where its wielder became superhuman; this simple boost was insignificant in comparison to the true potential of that endless wellspring. The desire for greater thrills, greater challenges, made itself apparent in his mind once more.

As luck would have it, he found breaking his next opponent somewhat more difficult.

Nakim was taken aback by the fluid skill of the Ymir attacking him; the Ymir's mech was a small, slender one, the kind he would have expected to be used as little more than cannon fodder. Its flurries of tight, controlled punches spoke differently, and Nakim's Grapearl found itself in possession of a host of new dents. Nakim struck back hard and fast, managing to brush the agile mech's arm and send splinters and shards of metal into the air.

Still assured that he could gain the upper hand, Nakim began to fight smarter, as his opponent was doing. He threw in feints, lower, sweeping blows, and higher attacks, but succeeded in little more than managing to match his opponent's blows. Every hook was deflected, every counter knocked aside until the Ymir finally knocked him onto his back with a sharp jab.

'Whoever you are,' said Nakim, panting, 'you're not doing badly.'

'Oh?' said the Ymir. His voice was cool and controlled, lacking the fire and arrogance Nakim had come to expect from the invaders. 'I was under the impression that you were the one struggling to keep up.'

The Ymir mech glowed faintly with its own Spiral energy. It threw another series of liquid punches down at Nakim's prone Grapearl.

'Gah! You're not supposed to kick them when they're-'

'Sorry, but I have a duty to fulfil.'

The Ymir began a more vicious beatdown of Nakim, who in turn started to feel the force of the blows himself.

'I'd better end this quickly,' said the Ymir, 'so no more holding back.'

Nakim's head rang as the ground shook from the Ymir's painful blows.

Chunks of armour whizzed threw the air as the Ymir mech, now burning red, slammed its great fists into Nakim. Again and again they came down, sending pain signals screaming through a body previously numbed by adrenaline. At last it stopped, its pilot momentarily exhausted.

As the rings and cracks of the fight died away, a mad laughter began to issue from Nakim, slowly rising in volume like a tap being turned, before streaming out in full force.

'What's so amusing, human?'

'No more holding back, you say? You've dug your own grave with those words.'

The field was lit for an instant by a green blaze, which calmed and wrapped itself, flickering and wraithlike, around Nakim's suddenly restored Grapearl.

He sprang to his feet and launched a single mighty punch at the Ymir. The Ymir deftly blocked the incoming fist, only for that fist to utterly destroy the arm with which he blocked, passing through to collide with the mech's body. Nakim watched his opponent fly across the grass with satisfaction. He drew his sword to move in for the kill.

As the Ymir came rushing back, he procured his own shorter blade, giving out a few lightning stabs. Nakim blocked every single one, galvanized by the large amounts of energy sweeping through him, and promptly sliced the blade in half. With three furious slashes, he removed another two of the Ymir's limbs and created a huge gash in its core. Stunned, the Ymir dropped, his mech no longer able to rise on account of its missing a leg.

The green flames flickered and died away, and Nakim felt the effects of injury and exertion again, forcing him to his knees just like the Ymir. That short burst had taken its toll, and Nakim fought to regain his breath. He looked around for incoming threats, observing that the main fight had moved away from this duel.

'Well, that's one of the best I've had in a long time,' said Nakim.

'Your strength is startling, human.'

'Heh, you're the first Ymir out of the whole rabble to not have a mouth too big for his body.'

'I do not think I am in much of a position to be impolite. Besides, you are a worthy adversary.'

'My thoughts exactly.'

'It would appear we are both somewhat incapacitated - myself, somewhat more so.'

Nakim chuckled. 'You remind me a little of an old comrade of mine. So I guess I get to claim victory?'

'Not by a large margin, but I suppose you're the one who's about to get back up and keep fighting.'

'What's your name?'

'I am Gylfe.'

'That's an odd one.'

'Well then, let us hear your heroic moniker.'

'Name's Nakim. Pleased to meet you.'

The Ymir laughed himself. 'Well, isn't this an odd conversation? Up until now our people have never been anywhere except at each other's throats.'

'I've had worse, trust me.'

They paused to recuperate.

'So, Nakim, are you going to carry on the fight? A soldier must not forsake his duty.'

'True that. Do you know where I can find the big guys?'

'You refer to our commanding officers?'

'Yup.'

'You are exceptionally brave, exceptionally psychotic, or suicidal.'

'Hmmmmm, sort of a mix of the three, actually. Come on, where are they?'

'The last I saw of them, they were on the right flank, further towards the woods.'

'Great, thanks. Looks like I'll have to go around...'

'You will achieve nothing. Lord Heimdall's machine bears the most potent and destructive armaments of any we have built, and Lord Baldr's skill is second only to the emperor himself.'

'Well, that'll just make me look all the better when I wipe the floor with them.'

'Hmph. I suppose I should wish you luck.'

Nakim lifted himself off the ground with effort.

'Well, I've got to go find these guys. Seeya, Gylfe.'

'Goodbye, Nakim. I will not wish you luck or goodwill; instead, I wish you an honourable end.'

'Uh, sure, why not.'

Nakim raced off to find the next fight.

* * *

_Icarus _was, somehow, even more silent than usual. Even distant bleeps and echoes were muffled and choked by the stifling quiet. Gimmy supposed that it was to be expected at a time like this, when planning and action were at a minimum and the best he could do was pray for his sister and Ajax.

How he wished that he could put a stop to this war. Battle after battle with no real consequence, sleepless nights spent trying to pinpoint an enemy with a talent for appearing and vanishing like smoke in the breeze, and the constant reminder of the artifact hung around his neck, a symbol of the peace he was failing to maintain - all of these things eroded his sanity, leaving him tired and bitter. Once upon a time he would have been on the frontlines every day, flailing like a madman, but time and the immense burden of responsibility had sapped his will. He felt disproprtionately aged, worn down by the whole sordid affair.

Recent events had left the majority Icarus Corps hopeful and raised morale, but Gimmy still shut out the enthusiasm of his soldiers. His job demanded caution, vigilance, even paranoia.

The grave truth was that humanity was dabbling in affairs it knew nothing about. The cryptic messages of the Ymir bore little true meaning - their impenetrable words were just another act of war, albeit a more subtle one. Gimmy could not help but suspect that they were being misled by myths and legends, too wondrous and wide-eyed to seek beneath the surface.

War. That was all it was. War. Everything about the Ymir was war, and war was everything to them. Their apparently noble goals seemed like attempts at justifying horrific acts as if their intent excused their execution. It was the train of thought that had almost led Rossiu to ruin.

Back then, they could have truly fought. They had had ideals and heroes and a leader who could solve anything with an empowering speech and a spacetime-shattering punch.

In the present day, Gimmy saw only military bureaucracy, misdirection of the masses, and pyrrhic victories. Their ideals were shaken by their enemies' superior fervor, their heroes wasted in far-flung battlefields, there leader miserable and chained by his own lack of faith.

Gimmy thought once again of his youth. He saw in that reminiscence the motivation of the Ymir - they did not want to let go of the past, because it was a simpler, happier time. And Gimmy could hardly blame them. If only he could understand what the Brigade's leaders had understood. If he had been a little older, he could have grasped the truth of the Spiral concept. But he had been a child, ignorant and rash.

When would it all get better? Was he doomed forever to play out this cycle of victory and defeat? It seemed burning spirit was no longer enough to win wars.

He looked out to the stars.

_Are you still there? Are you watching this?_

* * *

Hundreds of stars away, the emperor of the Ymir was wracked by nightmares.

Apocalypse after apocalypse. The extinguishing of suns. Extinction after extinction, and he had watched them all. But there was no time more painful than the first.

It was nearly too long ago to remember, but Tyr had once been young, just like anything else in existence. Eager, impressionable. And it was then that he heard the one part of his days of innocence that still burned brightly in his mind.

The stories.

Stories of gods and monsters, of last stands and crushing defeats, of heroes who defied the dogmas and systems of tyrants, introducing freedom and chaos to their people. Tyr had wanted desperately to be like them, to feel the exhilaration of true freedom, to meet his rivals in honourable combat, and to have his name sung by entire civilizations.

But then came the first nightmare.

Tyr felt no hate. Cold malice was alien to him, because it represented focus, order, precision. Tyr had only hated one thing in his life, the Anti-Spiral. The bringer of his nightmares, the very incarnation of cold opression, of facelessness, of cowardice and silence - everything he stood against.

Species, races, lines and boxes of seperation - these things had never mattered. All Tyr longed for was a single concept, a single ideal: a noble war.

From boy to man, from dream to dream, the nightmares transformed into visions of grandeur.

* * *

'Dammit!'

The battle at Odyssey's End was showing its victor already. Ajax's charge had been futile. The Ymir pushed back, faster and harder than his own troops, and now the gain-loss ratio had only emphasized that the humans were outnumbered.

Everywhere men screamed as they were blasted with shells and riddled with bullets. Brutish Ymir mechs dismembered all in their path. Was this the aliens' utopian vision? Or were they truly willing to enact this underhanded massacre in the name of their so-called 'golden age'?

These were dark times indeed, and even Ajax's boisterous vigour was leaving him. Still he fought on, Aianteia's twin scimitars decapitating mech after mech. Half the humans seemed ready to rout, but Ajax refused to give in, bellowing fierce rethoric at his soldiers.

'Do you want to live on a battlefield the rest of your life, or end this eyesore once and for all? Stand fast, you weak-hearted scum! To me! To me! The aliens are falling down over here!'

They managed to hold steady, but still too many were dying, and they were barely maintaining a defensive position. Ajax realized that he needed to do something desperate. His hot blood demanded that he cut the head off the snake.

Ajax ramped up the Spiral power once again, hoping to rampage his way diagonally across the central offense to the back of the right flank. He was successful to an extent; his might made his own progress easy, but in the process he left his men stranded.

'Colonel Ajax, sir!'

'Dio! Perfect timing! I've concocted a drastic plan and I need your help!'

'What are your orders, sir?'

'Get to the central frontline, take control of the yellow-bellied failures about to retreat from it! I'm going to try and take out the enemy leadership!'

'Yes, sir!'

Dio's arrival was a blessing; his squad's general effectiveness would help boost morale somewhat, but it would take more than holding the line to turn the tide of this battle. It was up to Ajax now.

He made it to the forest's edge, confronted by the gargantuan, imposing Gjallarhorn and its companion.

'So!' he shouted. 'The uncouth peasants at the head of this mob!'

'Mouthy one, isn't he,' said Heimdall in a deep, gurgling growl. 'That mech is something special, though.'

'You know,' replied Baldr, disturbingly jovially, 'I think I know you.'

'You!' Ajax howled. 'The ambassador bastard!'

Ajax poised himself. 'I'm ready to take you both on if I have to, although I'd like to tear you a new one in particular, ambassador.'

'Single combat,' said Baldr, 'is an art to our species. I will happily accept your challenge, bald one.'

Nidhogg and Aianteia tensed thmselves as their pilots prepared for the confrontation.

'Well, then,' said Baldr. 'Shall we begin?'

Ajax simply nodded and gritted his teeth.

Nidhogg moved like the wind, smacking Ajax's Grapearl across the head with the flat side of its spear's blade and switching into a short strike to the shoulder using the point. In response, Aianteia's twin blades hammered downwards in a set of frenetic slashes. Baldr whirled his spear expertly into a new stance and launched an attack on Aianteia's body, only for every thrust to be matched blow for blow. The impacts jarred both commanders, but they fought on regardless with dogged determination.

For some time Ajax and Baldr sparred, always on equal footing, their skills matched so perfectly that the duel almost seemed choreographed. But Ajax had no time for showmanship in this instance - he upped the Spiral gauge considerably, achieving a few touches and scratches on Nidhogg as he hacked away. Baldr responded in kind, submitting to the burning red.

'The funny thing about Spiral power,' said Baldr, 'is that just when you think you've had enough-'

Clang. He barred Ajax's strikes with almost nonchalant ease.

'-everything gets turned up to eleven.'

The red flames blazed with shocking intensity. Aianteia found itself on the receiving end of a particularly unexpected, forceful thrust, and was impaled like a pig on a spit.

'Hmph. I have better things to do than this. Duty to the emperor and all. Heimdall, I leave him to you.'

He kicked Aianteia off the spear.

'You were doing quite well up to a point there, human. Should you survive, I look forward to meeting you again.'

Ajax lay stunned, disarmed by the smug alien's strength. Nidhogg rose into the air and flew away over the treetops to attend to some other business.

Ajax's shock turned to fear as the massive frame of Gjallarhorn loomed over him, aiming its ludicrously oversized arm cannons at point blank range.

'Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgggghhhh, Colonel!'

An unfamiliar Grapearl barreled towards Gjallarhorn, trailing green wisps of Spiral power.

'The surprises never end, do they,' sighed Ajax.

Gjallarhorn took a moment to adjust its aim towards the newcomer and fired a pair of smooth, round shells towards the Grapearl at sickening, lurching speeds. The Grapearl was bowled over effortlessly.

'Too easy,' grunted Heimdall.

Ajax rose. 'But it gave me the time to do this!'

He recharged with Spiral energy, tracing fine patterns through the air as he began a renewed offense against Gjallarhorn. He dodged the next shells it belched out, and scraped and scored it repeatedly with his scimitars, although its armour was too thick to do any lasting damage. More shells came, with the sounds of roaring beasts, screeching ghosts and furious thunder, one of them obliterating Aianteia's left torso.

Still Ajax struggled on, tearing into Gjallarhorn with escalating mania and intensity.

'It takes more than chunky armour and overcompensating guns to win wars, don't you know! Have at you, Heimball!'

Heimdall knocked Aianteia away with a hefty fist. 'They aren't Gjallarhorn's only selling points, imbecilic human. And my name-'

He stomped down hard on Aianteia's chest, ramming it into the soft, dense earth.

'-is HEIMDALL!'

He stomped down again, fixing the Aianteia in place. Ajax gave a groan of pain and frustration. He gave one last thanks to his would-be saviour.

'You actually helped out there, whoever you are. Good job.'

Heimdall snarled. 'Enough words! I am sick of your disrespect!'

Ajax smirked. 'Hypocrisy at its finest. Go on then. Blow my head off, bastard.'

The cannon snapped in Ajax's recommended direction, ready to deliver the finishing shot. He decided to face death with composure, and lifted his chin up high.

Heimdall wasted no time in pressing the trigger.

There was a colossal explosion, an eruption of heat and steel that actually pushed Gjallarhorn backwards, its feet leaving large skid marks in the soil. But it was not Heimdall's shot that had created it.

Down from the sky, comet-like, an object had descended at astonishing velocity, breaking Gjallarhorn's line of fire. The impact and shot combined to form a monumental blast.

As the smoke cleared, a strong, authoritative voice spoke.

'Lord Heimdall, please stand down unless you wish for me to break you.'

Darry had arrived.

Ajax almost whooped with relief as the general confidently drew a sword and pistol from her Grapearl's flanks. The titan was bedecked in red and blue, a great silver crest on its brow to distinguish it from lesser machines. Its carapace was nearly as dense and thick as Gjallarhorn's, and its armaments were in perfect condition, ready to back up the mech's impressive defences.

'Now, see, Colonel,' said Heimdall, 'why couldn't you use the title like this woman?'

Darry spoke again, coldly and clearly. 'You have failed to comply with my order. No second chances.'

She swept her blade across Gjallarhorn's body, virtually disembowling it - an explosive mess of machinery spewed from the stomach of the beast. Aghast, Heimdall backed away.

'My, you really are silly, aren't you,' mused Darry, opening fire with her pistol. One of Gjallarhorn's shoulders became riddled with punctures. Bullets pierced every part of its shell, creating a mass of holes that vomited copious amounts of smoke.

Snarling unintelligibly, Heimdall launched a succession of shells at her. They simply shattered themselves on the Grapearl's unbreakable armour.

Darry appeared quietly livid. 'Listen, Ymir. This is, according to all pertinent legislations, a human colony. You are the vagrants here. You are little better than trespassers or squatters.'

'You dare question the nobility of the-'

'Yes.'

Darry swiftly ducked to the side to avoid another shell, attacking in close combat again, forming a colossal gash down Gjallarhorn's side.

'Hmph. Your machine appears to be in a state of disrepair. And it could stand to lose a little weight.'

Completely, incoherently furious, Heimdall spat yet another shell in Darry's direction. She deftly caught it in one hand.

'Certain kill.'

'Oh sh-'

'PUNISHING COMET!'

Darry's Grapearl was consumed by Spiral energy as she hurled the shell back with vindictive force. It hit Gjallarhorn right in its exposed torso, setting off a chain reaction of horrific explosions that tore it apart from within.

'I think this one,' said Darry, 'goes to me.'

* * *

Similar interventions took place across the plains, as an immeasurable number of fresh, eager troops utterly destroyed the already tired, diminished Ymir. The sky had truly opened. Not a single cloud stood in the path of the light now pouring from the unconquered sun.

Against impossible odds, Ajax and his army had held out long enough. It was not a victory without cost, but the timely arrival of Darry's contingent had made humanity the undeniable winners.

As Gimmy heard the news, he began to wonder if fate was smiling kindly on him again. Perhaps the troops' newfound hope had been well-placed. Perhaps he really was being too pessimistic. There would be more trials to come in the future, and the success of the actual mission on Ithaca had yet to be determined, but for now, it was enough.

As the sun had emerged from the darkness of night, so the course of the war had changed for the better.

Hope had at last been reforged at Odyssey's End.


	11. Chapter 11: Upon A Star

A/N: As if anyone cares, I've decided to stop keeping to the every-Sunday schedule. At first it was pretty much just something to keep me motivated to write, but I've gotten far enough that I have that motivation anyway, and I'd personally like to relax a bit and focus on making the chapters as good as possible. It'll also free up a little more time to work on my other project with Zaru, Nucleotide. That doesn't mean I'll start updating infrequently, though - just that the updates'll be more unevenly spaced out.

Start looking forward to Chapter 14 (insofar as my drivel can be looked forward to), people. Big things will happen. In the meantime, this chapter'll be a bit lighter, a bit more of a break.

* * *

Gimmy was exhausted.

It had been more than a day and a half since the last time he had slept, in which time he'd had to keep track of two vitally important missions and another string of smaller hit-and-run attacks on the few planets humanity had managed to colonize. He hoped, however, that it would all be worth it; one more meeting and he could have his rest. One more mission and they might finally be able to decode the prattlings of the Ymir emissaries.

'And then the alien chief gave his respects to me as a worthy adversary, telling me we would meet again! And I say aye, because at our next confrontation, I shall give that man the punishment he is due, and then some!' said Ajax.

'Yes, yes, you're very good, we understand,' said Darry, more than a littled bored by the boisterous commander's glorified recount of the battle. 'Can we please get back to the matter at hand? We won, and we know that, there's nothing to convince anyone of.'

She turned to the other officers. 'Personally, I would like to request that one Lieutenant Diomedes come forward with his findings.'

Gimmy sat up from his half-doze, intrigued, as the scout commander presented his writings on the discovery of a lost world.

'The Ymir appear to have been looking for the same archaeological site we found. Presumably there is information there about the ancient superweapons with which they are so concerned.'

'Those myths have some truth to them, then, eh?' said Gimmy.

'It would appear that way, sir, although we still have no clues as to the nature of these creations - except for these writings here.

I present to you the translated script found on two stone tablets at the heart of the ruined temple complex. Its writer or writers are unknown, but presumably are or perhaps bear a connection to the Ymir ancestors. These writings match the Ymir's ancestral tales closely.'

'You mean,' said Ajax, 'they're basically an extension of Baldr's story?'

'Yes, and I think they both should be regarded as significant - remember that those stories bear the weight, the entire purpose, of this war. It is these stories, these myths, that we must unravel.'

'Truer a word was never spoken,' said Gimmy. 'If you'd be so kind as to read the documents you have here?'

'There is a substantial amount here, so I will try to summarize the text.

These writings speak of three key concepts, presumably all from the Ymir's ancestral history - the eye of Odin, which according to Baldr was exchanged in order to exceed all mental limitations, a location known as the Mimir's Well, apparently a receptacle for that eye, and something else we've heard mentioned before: the World Tree, which is quite possibly the Ymir's current objective.

Much of the text details the story of Odin losing his eye. Odin traveled to the Mimir's Well to meet the leaders of its indigenous population. The translators were not certain, but the inhabitants of the Well appear to be another relative of this ancestral race - and may therefore be the builders of the Ithacan ruins. They were a race that sought to know everything there is to know about time and space, arriving at the conclusion that to spot the threads and patterns of reality they must chronicle its entire history. Through this obsessive examination of the past they became a very wise and scholarly race.

Odin sought to bear this same trait of wisdom, and traveled to the Well in order to learn this culture's ways. He received more than he expected - he was offered an exchange of genetic material. One of the Well's leaders wished to receive Odin's vast Spiral potential - and so Odin gave him his eye and some of his flesh, and was given the same in turn.

We know the consequence of this deal on Odin's side - a war was begun against the Anti-Spiral's oppression. The Spiral races fought back for the first time with Odin as one of their most esteemed heroes, beginning a war that would last aeons and define universal history; the same history documented by the people of the Well. But as for the other end of the bargain? Odin's Spiral power gave its new wielder an unprecedented ability - the power of prophecy. Every so often he was afforded a glimpse into the future, allowing him to document a single snippet of days yet to come. Some were not too far ahead, and the people of the Well put these prophecies to great use; but some were so distant that they held no relevance.

At the very bottom of the text, it is written that Odin returned to the well, and when he left, the World Tree had grown. At that time, the prophet wrote down his only premonition to involve this World Tree, and it is the very last item on the tablets. I quote:

"Preserver of heavens, unmarked by hell  
The heir of Odin seeks to see

The sapling of the Mimir's Well  
The glorious World Tree."

And that is what the Ymir are plundering the stars for.'

Gimmy was reflective for a moment as the other officers murmured to each other. Then he smiled broadly.

'It gets better and better,' he said. 'We are at the crux of a turning point. The victory at Ithaca led to this; now we know exactly where their final objective is, we can fight back significantly and decisively. Lieutenant, do you have any leads for the location of this Well?'

'We already have coordinates, sir. It's far away, but we're certain of its position; it's the same point the Ymir are heading to next.'

'Then we'll meet them there. Begin preparations, gather armies, et cetera. It's finally time to start beating the Ymir down. If what we've gathered is correct... all answers lie at the Well.'

'Gimmy, aren't you forgetting something?' said Darry, concerned.

Gimmy paused a moment.

'Wait a minute... there was something else to be discussed... another mission - ah!

Even more good news, everyone. We've located Dain. I've already given the order for a retrieval team to be sent out. It's somewhere in Kamina City.'

There were cheers of approval from several of those gathered, the loudest naturally emerging from Ajax's mighty lungs.

'It'll probably be another important piece of this puzzle, so we'll take it with us to the Well. Stand by; the course of history is about to change.'

* * *

It was a quiet night in Kamina City. Nakim took the time to admire the night sky and absorb the few distant city sounds as he made his way back to Maosha's apartment.

He was more than a little nervous, given the utter fool he'd made of himself the last time he'd been there. Still, it was important. Maosha and Jun were two of his last connections to humanity, beacons of warmth and light in a confusing, cold world.

Nakim had a strange yearning to see the Old Man again. In his presence, his worries and doubts had disappeared. He had felt at peace. Upon leaving, he was once again conflicted, bitter and completely clueless as to what he would make of himself.

Would he go offworld again? Certainly the chaos of combat was the only other time he felt secure, but it was a security he knew he should not be feeling. It was more than just enjoying honourable combat with a fine rival, as he had done. It was psychosis, a sick, depraved love of glorified murder.

Or was it?

His befuddled mind could no longer make the distinction.

He arrived at the building's door, hesitant to barge back in after he had stormed out like a petulant child. For several minutes he simply stood, arguing with himself, trying to work up the courage, until he heard a gasp from behind him.

As luck would have it, Maosha was just arriving home herself.

'You're back!' She almost squealed with shock and relief.

'Yeah, I've come crawling back, just like you knew I would,' he muttered dejectedly.

'What are you talking about? I was worried out of my mind!'

'You were?'

'Nakim, you disappeared for more than a week! Just plain vanished! I had Jun asking me every morning where you were and-'

'You shouldn't have been worried. I was only being an idiot out in some godforsaken forest rather than here.'

'Nakim, what are you on about?'

'Don't you even remember? I thought I was the one with memory problems here!'

'Are you talking about your... outburst?'

'Ding, we have a winner! Why aren't you about to kill me? I threw a tantrum like a child, disappeared without telling you where I was going and left a freaking orphan on your doorstep!'

'Nakim, that... people don't usually prioritize things like that... Anger's the kind of thing that goes away after a while. You don't stop caring when someone's... when someone's...'

'That's, ah... that's a pretty mature way to deal with it, I guess.'

There was a moment of silence.

'Don't you see? I've acted like a madman, or at least a really stupid guy! I can't think up these things, I can't, I can't cope with stuff! My mind is bending over backwards, I haven't slept, I...'

His shoulders slumped. Maosha became even more concerned. She hastily caught him before he simply crashed to the ground.

'We need to get you inside. Come on.'

They got up to the apartment. All the lights were off, and not a single sound was made. Maosha managed to steer Nakim onto the nearest couch, onto which he collapsed. Unexpectedly, a tear had run down his face.

'Nakim, what's going on? What's wrong? Please, tell me!'

'I don't know,' he whispered.

He took deep breaths for a moment, trying to calm himself.

'I'm going bipolar or something... everything's gone topsy-turvy, and I can't remember, I just can't remember!'

He looked at her with genuine fear and pain in his eyes.

'I can't remember...'

'Can't remember what?'

'Anything! Everything's moving too fast... I've been forgetting more and more... I barely remember who I am...'

'How far does it go back? The amnesia?'

Nakim was shivering.

'I only remember a few things now. The last few weeks... the island... the sky... the feeling of leaves... just a few abstracts. I can only remember you because of last week... It's all going blank... it's all going...'

He took a shuddering breath.

'You need sleep, right now, badly.'

Maosha quickly found him a blanket, which he wrapped himself in tightly, his mental illness suddenly showing physical signs.

Nakim wandered into a fevered sleep.

* * *

He was still out the next morning, and Maosha had to silence, of all people, Jun, who could not contain his excitement at Nakim's return. His condition seemed to have improved with sleep, but Maosha was still shaken by his abrupt sickness and deteriorating sanity.

After a while he woke up, his eyes opening slowly, blinking in the light of day. A little voice greeted him.

'Nakim!'

He turned his head, his neck aching. 'Jun... is that you?' he said hoarsely.

'Nakim!'

The corners of his mouth lifted a little.

'Sorry Jun... Nakim's not too well at the moment...'

'Not well?'

'I won't be able to walk around much, but we can still talk...

'Nakim,' said Maosha. 'How do you feel, inside?'

He stretched slightly. 'I don't know... numb. Empty. Pain's gone... I think...'

'Are you going to be OK?' she asked, her voice a little shaky.

Nakim closed his eyes.

He'd been through worse than this.

He'd faced down armies. Fought animals on steroids. He'd nearly been impaled once.

He would make it. He would overcome the impossible, and kick reason to the curb so hard the curb would shatter.

Nakim smiled. 'Yes.'

His eyes snapped fully open, and he sat up.

'Jun, have you been alright?'

'Mm!' nodded the orphan. 'Good cooking!' he said, pointing at Maosha.

Nakim chuckled. 'I'm glad to hear. I'm sorry I had to go away like that... but... I'm trying to find a way. Find a way... to get better.'

Jun cocked his head to one side. 'Get what better?'

'Jun... do you remember... where you grew up?'

Jun nodded.

'Where was it?'

Jun did nothing for a moment. A sadder look entered his eyes. Slowly, he raised his arm, and did something very unexpected.

He lifted it and pointed straight at the sky.

* * *

Nakim and Maosha sat close to Jun as they heard his story. They were amazed, bewildered; and yet, it somehow made sense for this odd little child to not be of this world.

Jun, as far as they could gather, wan't even human. He had grown up in a vast library, looked after by an old caretaker or 'Keeper' after his parents died. Wanting to see the world outside of the library, he had asked his caretaker to let him leave, but the old one had responded that he could leave only if he was given a mission.

And so he found Jun a mission.

Some elders of Jun's race had an item, he said. A seemingly insignificant thing, but one of great potency. Jun had been dropped off in a village far from Kamina City and directed to the capital. He asked for the villagers' help, but none listened, and so he began his horrific march into the desert.

'They gave a child,' said Nakim, incensed, 'a mission that would take him lightyears from home, with no support or supplies, and a desert journey to tackle? What is their problem?'

Jun spread his hands, wide-eyed. ''s a really important thing!'

'Would it be ok if we saw this... this 'thing'?' said Maosha.

Jun nodded, and procured a curious little item from his pocket.

It was a little golden figurine, carved in the likeness of a stag. It seemed to pulsate softly with power, and an air of great age and wisdom hung around it. Seeing it reminded Nakim of a single other moment in his depleted memory, the time he had seen the core drill of Gurren Lagann.

'What's it called?'

Jun put a tiny finger to his chin and looked up a moment, thinking back to his briefing.

'Ummmmm... Keeper called it 'Dain'.'

* * *

Jun carried on his story, up until meeting Nakim and the Old Man out in the desert, upon which Nakim filled Maosha in on their encounter with the wise hermit, a story she found amusing.

'Nakim, how is-'

'I'm feeling better. I remembered all the old mottos, all the motivation. Something weird is happening to my brain... but I'll struggle through. It's what humans do.'

He spoke to Jun.

'Jun... would you like to go home?'

Jun considered the question for quite some time, until he gave a nod, but followed up with the words 'not always'.

Nakim gave him a pat on the head. 'You want to be able to come back?'

Nod.

'I think that can be arranged.'

Jun gave a little whoop.

'I promise, Jun. I'll take you there as soon as I can.'

Maosha let out a sigh of relief at the near-restoration of normality. She left to start preparing a meal.

* * *

There was a sharp rapping on the door.

Nakim looked at the door quizzically as Maosha went to receive the visitor. 'Who do you think-'

The door opened to reveal two men, strangers, clad in the uniform of the Icarus Corps.

'Stand down, everyone,' said one. 'We're here to retrieve the artifact Dain, which is hidden in here, purposefully or otherwise.'

'Dain?' said Nakim. 'You mean-'

'You know where it is?'

'Well, what do you need it for?'

'The current alien invaders desire it. We wish to take it for safekeeping.'

Jun tottered up to the soldier's knee and opened his little palm to reveal the delicate statuette. 'Keeper said people'd take it.'

'Huh?' said the soldier, completely nonplussed.

'It would seem,' said his companion, a hint of mirth in his voice, 'that it's been in a child's possession all this time.'

They collected the precious item.

'Thank you for giving this willingly. It is very important for humanity's future.'

Jun nodded. 'Keeper said so.'

'Who is this 'Keeper' you keep referring to?'

Jun gave no answer.

'Well, we may as well be on our way. Retrieval team out. Assignment complete.'

'Hang on a minute.' Nakim was curious. 'Where are the Corps headed after Ithaca?'

'How do you know-'

'I'm a military man too. Where to next?'

'We are aiming for a solar system named he Mimir's Well.'

At this Jun's face lit up. 'Home!' he cried.

The soldiers gave him one last odd look before leaving.

'Home?' asked Nakim.

Jun nodded once more.

'So your home is where the army's headed?'

'Yes!'

'Heh. That's two birds with one stone there.'

He turned to Maosha. 'Maosha... I'm really, truly sorry for last time, and all this crap... and further apologies, but I'm going to have to leave again. At least this time it'll be taking responsibility off your hands.'

'Nakim, you mean...'

'Don't worry. I'll be back. Jun too, at some point. So it's not a permanent thing.' He gave a winning smile.

Maosha returned the smile and nodded. 'Well, I'm just glad you're getting better.'

'Everything's getting better, Maosha, all the time.'

'I hope you're right.'

'Of course I am! Now come on, little guy,' he said enthusiastically. 'We need to get ready and packing!

You're finally going to get home.'


	12. Chapter 12: The Blazing Curtain

Like some otherwordly waterfall, warping red light cascaded before the Icarus fleet. In these falls, the inception of hundreds of stillborn suns could be seen, and the blinding display of numberless supernovas danced as candle flames along its edge. It was incomphrehensible yet beautiful, something that could not be understood, yet could still be perceived in all its wonder. Truly, this astonishing nebula deserved its name.

'The Blazing Curtain,' grumbled Ajax. 'You sure this is the only way through?'

'I'm afraid it encircles an entire abundance of planets and asteroids, and the Well is at the heart of it all. There is no path to the World Tree except through here,' said Gimmy.

'Are you sure the ships will be okay? The radiation is just the start; the scientists are still bamboozled by the kind of crazy-ass phenomena this thing spews out every year.'

'Not only are the shields at maximum, they're being reinforced with Darry's Spiral energy. We are quite safe.'

'What about the Ymir? Surely we should be expecting attacks at any time?'

'As I said. If we can withstand the warping energies of one of the most volatile anomalies in outer space, a smattering of barbarians should pose no threat. I think it is far more reasonable they are waiting for us in the Well itself. After all, that is where their fabled World Tree is.'

'Looks like I still can't fault your logic,' conceded Ajax.

'Nor should you be trying to,' said Gimmy curtly. 'Know your place, Colonel.'

A laugh swelled from Ajax's barrel chest. 'Still the same cold heart. See, I think this is your problem, sir, you need to lighten up!'

'Colonel, would you _please _go and find something useful to do?'

'Fine, fine, if his majesty wills it. I'll go to the sentry positions, see if I can't spot any nasties looking for a fight.'

Ajax turned and left the bridge of the carrier _Grace_, making his way to the precipice of a lower deck where junior officers were hard at work organizing lookouts. In this bizarre barrier, visibility was naturally greatly reduced, forcing the ship to move more slowly and cautiously.

The deck was somewhat comfortable, its dark floors coated in synthetic material that eased movement. Here and there thick steel pillars emerged, curving inward before reaching out once again to join the ceiling. Windows as tall as a man and three times as wide lined either side, flooding the entire space with the Blazing Curtain's suffocatingly intense light. Short flights of stairs led down to each window, with lookout points arrayed next to some. It was these points that Ajax scanned for a familiar face.

He soon found someone he recognized; Lieutenant Hector, the zealous rookie officer who always showed rapt attention at every meeting, no matter how tedious the subject matter. What kind of motivation could lead someone to actually consider colonial taxation and the results of the solar census interesting, Ajax would never know. Hector was clearly one of a kind.

He approached the upstanding young officer in his typical jovial manner.

'Stand to attention, Lieutenant! This is an inspection!'

Hector jumped in an instant, standing as tall and straight as humanly possible.

'Ha, good. You're not slacking. Carry on.'

He relaxed as Ajax gave a cheerful wink.

'What brings you here, sir?'

'Not much, really. I have nothing to do now Gimmy's kicked me out of the bridge, so I thought I'd find somewhere to better admire the view.'

'I'm afraid there's not even a view as such, sir. The Curtain apparently exists more to obscure an existing view than to provide its own.'

'Still, there's something entrancing about, isn't there? It's apparently a miracle in terms of the mechanics involved. The educated types seemed pretty excited about it under all their jargon...'

'I suppose so.'

'What about you, Hector? Just here to do your job?'

'I place nothing above my duty, sir.'

'Ahhhh, I'll never understand such serious people... what could possibly have made you like this?'

'I... don't quite understand what you mean, sir.'

Ajax took a place next to Hector, gazing at the glimmering vortex before them. Its shifting patterns were mesmerizing.

'How about it, Hector? Tell me a little about yourself.'

'Hmph. What is there to tell? I was one of those born just before the exodus to the surface. I had the fortune of growing up with the sky above me from the very beginning. I have no defining tragedy to my life, no intricate coming-of-age tale to tell...'

'Sounds like a pretty boring childhood.'

'I don't know. I always did take delight in hearing stories of the Anti-Spiral war. I found something romantic, I suppose, in the ideal of fighting for justice. I wondered once or twice what it would be like for my own name to become legend. After all, I was but a meek child. It can be expected for such a being to aspire to an escape.'

'So, join the army, become a hero, eh? That was your plan?'

Something shifted within Hector. His eyes, suddenly cold and harsh, snapped to Ajax.

'I harbor no such ambition. I fight, I fight because it is the right thing!'

'Okay, okay, calm down! I didn't figure that would tick you off so much. Is there really something wrong with wanting to be famous and powerful? Plenty of people have that kind of dream.'

'I am above such-'

'...Such what?'

Hector sighed. 'I am not a dreamer. Either we make our hopes reality or we fail. We are who we are, and we cannot change that. Even if kicking and struggling and fighting the good fight seems noble, it will accomplish little in the end...'

'Now you can just shut up. Where's all this fatalism coming from? You haven't even lived! You've got decades ahead of you! You can't just quit before you've even begun!'

Hector was silent.

'Listen then,' said Ajax. 'I'll tell you who the hell _I_ am.

I grew up in dangerous times. Beastmen roving everywhere, earthquakes and gunshots every few hours... the places were rough, and so were some of the people. Back then, I thought I'd never live the life I wanted. I held onto a dream, though. I thought there'd be nothing better than to see the world, to find all the really jaw-dropping things in it. But I had a voice in my head telling me I'd never get there. The road ahead was too hard, too cold, too dangerous.

When they came to my village, I thought it was the end. They thought nothing of killing families or children; even though I was only about ten at the time, they never hesitated to try and finish me. When I had nowhere left to run, they forced me to the ground, held me at gunpoint, and told me to give them everything I knew - where they could find more innocents to kill, more supplies to raid.

But by some kind of miracle, I was saved. By a pretty famous guy, at that - Kittan Bachika himself, of the grand old Dai-Gurren Brigade. I'll never forget that day... he demolished those beastmen, told me never to give up, and said that change was right around the corner. Sure, he wasn't the sharpest speaker, but his words **meant **something.

Not too long after, Teppelin was taken. I decided to hold his words in my heart. I swore to stop backing down... I swore never to give in, even when all the world's cruelties broke my back and spat in my face.

I managed to grasp my dream, and more. I saw the whole world, visited the most amazing places and met the most amazing people... then I joined up here and saw whole other worlds. Let me tell you, no matter what happens to us humans this universe'll always be a crazy, awesome place...

Now, point is, I'm not saying 'you will achieve your dreams'. Can't mak assumptions like that. But you can't do the opposite either. If I'd given up back then, I'd be deader than dead right now. If I'd never had a dream to follow, I'd have led a worthless, empty life without goals or directions. Don't cast aside things like dreams. They're part of what makes you who you are. Part of what makes you... well... human.'

Hector was silent, seemingly disquieted by this challenge to his worldview. Ajax simply sighed and turned to leave.

'Listen, soldier. Keep up with this giving-up schtick and you'll die an ignoble death someday. Go be a hero!

**Chase that dream!**'

Once more Nakim's lone Grapearl made its way through the void, hovering towards an uncertain future.

But this time he himself was not alone. The curious little child he had found starving in the desert was curled up in the cockpit with him, peaceful and restful. Nakim tried to cast his mind back through the mist of his past. Had he ever been like this? A carefree, innocent child? Or had he been the same person, a seemingly confident man marred by cracks of psychosis?

He shook himself. It was no time to wind himself up in his introspection again; he had an abandoned child to return to his home. He had a job to do, and a destination to reach.

Some way ahead, the eerie shimmering light of the Blazing Curtain warped and bent. It was unearthly, yet it still touched the soul with an alien perfection, like a fine painting of some long-forgotten paradise. How frustrating it was that the answers to mysteries like this still eluded mankind. How frustrating it was that Nakim's own mysteries were indecipherable to himself.

Their destination itself lay just outside the Curtain; a forlorn, abandoned sphere named Nocturne XII. It was curious that Jun could have fond memories of such a place, but a home is, Nakim supposed, a home. What had Nakim's home been like?

_Stop it_, he chided himself. Slipping again and again into self-pity - was this how decent people lived? Nakim was tormented and conflicted, but even he still held onto a vague idea of human strength and virtue. This egotistical depression would erode that idea, emptying Nakim bit by bit into a nobody, a hollow shell.

Like hell he would let that happen!

He boosted his speed. Enough dilly-dallying, enough procrastination! He would do what he had to do, and do it in style. Even amid his scattered recollections, he remembered one time of clarity; the time before his dismissal, the time when he had followed in the footsteps of giants. He would reclaim those days, starting here and now.

Breaking the atmosphere of Nocturne XII, Nakim prepared to home in on Jun's hidden, obscure homestead. Within minutes of descent, battered by the usual gales and air currents, he had touched down on the dusty, barren surface, sliding through the cool night air towards the grand library where Jun had been raised.

Still more of the journey remained. He wove his way through narrow crags and outcrops, ducking and weaving through nooks and crannies. He bridged chasms and scrambled up hills, until he came upon the relieving sight of an ancient-looking building that his scanners indicated to be the library.

Opening the cockpit and slinging Jun over his shoulder, he clambered carefully down the Grapearl's chassis and traipsed towards the library's elevated entrance. His footsteps raised haunting echoes in the silence of the near-dead planet. The door he emerged before was as old and thick with dust as anywhere else in this lonely world, and evidently not locked - a simple push caused it to swing slowly inwards with a soft creak.

The interior was devoid of light. Dark shapes loomed ahead of Nakim, which he could only guess formed a maze of towering bookcase. Ghostly and quiet, the library struck him as an unfortunate site for a fragile child to live and grow in. He picked his way through the rows and rows of shelves, repeatedly stumbling in the dark. He began to feel lost, even scared, the fear of the unknown tugging at his heart.

But he carried on, determined to find Jun's home.

Nakim had no idea how long he had been picking his way through the spectral corridors of the library. He suspected it had been hours. The jarring possibility that he might become lost forever was becoming increasingly likely as he descended into the library's heart. He finally decided to stop and rest, sitting and leaning against a stack of shelves. Jun was still in contented slumber, his breathing slow and soft.

As his body began to relax, the nervousness washed away, supplanted by resignation and apathy. The darkness around him began to shift and melt, surreal and dreamlike. The forces of sleep crept over him.

A sudden noise jerked Nakim to his senses. A faint light had appeared from a source around the corner of the shelf he had dozed against. Straining his ears, he made out the slight rustle of slow, deliberate footsteps. It was umistakeable. Someone or something was coming. As the light began to grow brighter, Nakim tensed himself, shielding Jun from the approaching menace. His heart beat faster, and the footsteps became ever closer.

The light could only be a few metres away now. He clenched his fists, cursing his foolishness for dropping off in such an unfamiliar place.

The light was almost upon him. Seconds slipped by until at last its bearer turned the corner.

With a yell, Nakim tackled the figure, observing its features in a split second. It had the metallic skin tone and slender frame of the Ymir, his sworn enemy, a ferocious and aggressive people - but then, hadn't Nakim learned that they weren't quite all such monsters? He hesitated, allowing the alien to react and throw him backwards, landing painfully on the sandy floorboards some distance away.

'Wait... Jun?' said the alien, in a low, calm voice. It had recognized the toddler now asleep a little in front of Nakim's prone corpus. Nakim checked over the alien again. It was identical to an Ymir, alright, but at the same time it was completely opposed - the hues were all wrong. The pale silver of its skin was in fact a golden, solar sheen. Its hair, rather than the cold greys and voidlike blacks of the Ymir, was a warm, earthy brown.

Nakim realized that he might just be face to face with the Keeper.

'Who...?' he panted, as the curious not-Ymir crouched to gently lift Jun from the hard floor.

'I,' stated the alien emphatically, 'am this child's caretaker. My title is Keeper, but you may call me Oor, so long as you cease your brazen attacks.'

'Ah, er, sorry 'bout that... I thought you were, ah, you know, stalking or hunting us or something along those lines...'

'Well, that is not so, although perhaps you should not be quick to trust me in any case. Still, as you were looking after Jun, I can see you are not a person worthy of harm right now.'

'Yyyyeah, you might have to rethink that one at some point,' said Nakim wryly. 'I've done some pretty crazy shit.'

'There is a better time for these words,' remarked Oor. 'Come with me.'

Nakim followed Oor with haste through a labrynthine series of gaps and walkways, to a great wall with a series of alcoves set into it. Oor tapped a rhythm on the inside of one of these alcoves, producing a doorway from nowhere, and led Nakim through it.

The room on the other side was a far cry from the still, heartless library. It was warm, well-lit, and comfortably furnished with soft circular seats and what Nakim guessed was some sort of coffee table. Nakim and Oor each took a seat, with Jun laid to rest atop another.

'As you can see, the library is not our actual residence, but rather a convenient hiding place which happens to be a great, if puzzlingly complex, repository of information.'

'And just as well. I'd hate to live in a den like that.'

'Enough about my homestead. Who are you, and why is Jun here?'

'I'm former Private Nakim of the Icarus Corps, and I'm here because this is where Jun told me his home was.'

'Ah, a human soldier?'

'Well, sort of, maybe.'

'You are involved, then, in the struggle with the Ymir?'

'See, I was about to ask you about that...'

'I shall tell you then. But first, I think Jun has slept long enough.'

Oor gently shook his young ward awake. Jun gave a characteristic drawn-out blink and slowly gained his bearings.

Oor smiled. 'It has been a long time, little one.'

'Oor!' Jun's face shone as he was reunited with his mentor.

For some time Oor and Jun talked, laughed and caught up on the weeks lost since Jun's departure. At the end of this reunion, Oor and Nakim finally got down to business. Nakim opened with his most urgent question.

'Oor, what exactly are you?'

'A pertinent question. My wife Freya and I are Mimir, a genetic variant extremely similar to the Ymir but with a profoundly different society, culture and outlook. We are a scattered people, dedicated to charting the annals of history, which was for so long preoccupied with the Anti-Spiral war... in some corners of the galaxy, we had our own ancient cities, but those are gone by now. In the meantime, the Ymir have risen again, and the situation has become grave.

We and the Ymir are both descendants of the Aesir, the people of Odin. Where we were content with the present as long as the past was set in words and stone, the Ymir craved for a status quo, for Odin's heyday of warfare and eternal glory. It is both a noble and barbaric aspiration, one that has led to the recent wars on the part of the Ymir.'

'Yeah, from what I've heard from other soldiers back on Ithaca, the Ymir are fixated on myths and legends - they have these ancestral tales, and I think, something to do with a... World Tree?'

'Ah, of course. The Tree and the Wolf. They lie at the heart of this sordid affair.'

'Could you please explain what these guys have been yammering on about?'

'I wish I could, but alas, even my information is incomplete in this regard. They are sources of great power for the Ymir, and relics of the Aesir age, that much is known. But as to their true nature... I suggest you hear it from the mouths of the Ymir themselves... or even simply find the World Tree. Your questions would surely be answered then.'

'There was another thing, that thing Jun had...'

'Dain,' offered Jun.

'Yeah, a couple of guys just showed up to randomly take it, it was weird. How does that statuette figure into all this?'

'Dain is quite useless. It is an obselete tool to amplify spiral power, which is, I believe, required in great amounts to access the old Aesir relics. But with the power Tyr wields... it is unnecessary as befits its apparently anticlimactic retrieval.'

'Tyr?'

'The dread emperor of the Ymir. I would call him a wicked, vile blackguard, but in truth even he is pursuing his own twisted interpretation of what is best for the universe. Still, he is one to be feared. He has fought on par with Lordgenome, human spiral knight of old, and his burning will gives him truly chilling levels of spiral power. Be wary of him, Nakim.'

'Sounds like a scary guy.'

'It cannot be overstated that he is a threat. Perhaps your army's leadership would be able to challenge him - but if he manages to access even more of the Aesir leaders' power, he may well achieve his crazed dreams of fire and slaughter.'

'This really sounds like stuff that needs stopping. Where do I find the World Tree?'

'I believe your army is heading towards it as we speak. It lies at the heart of our home system, the Mimir's Well, now as ruined as much of our civilization. The Anti-Spiral wars were not kind to us.'

'So I've got to head through the Curtain?'

'I am afraid so. But do not despair. Spiral power can easily overcome even such a barrier as the one our forefathers created to protect us. Even the Blazing Curtain is not impenetrable.'

'So I guess I have work to do...'

'I am sorry.'

'Don't be. It's a man's duty to kick ass in the name of humanity!'

'I think you'll have no trouble. Just make sure you get there in time.'

'I'll get going right now. Only problem is,' he said turning to Jun, 'I'll have to say goodbye to this little guy.'

'Ah...' said Jun softly, his voice wobbling a little. 'Nakim...'

'Don't worry,' said Nakim, giving Jun a gentle pat on the head. 'It's far from a goodbye. I'll be back to visit as soon as I can, 'kay?'

Jun nodded, doing his best to smile.

'So this is it, then,' Nakim sighed. 'Time for me to actually get something done for a change!'

Oor nodded. 'We will be watching. Remember, all your questions will be answered... I can only warn you that you may not like the answers.'

'Huh?'

'You know what I refer to. There are mysteries in your life other than alien myths.'

'You're a crazy guy, you know!' Nakim chuckled. 'I'm not afraid. I'm going to go out there, give it my all, and kick reasn to the curb! Yeah!'

The corner's of Oor's mouth twitched. 'In that case, I will show you to your transport. Good luck with your task.'

'You know, we've barely known each other for a couple of hours, but you seem like a pretty swell guy. I'll leave Jun in your hands without a worry!'

'As you should. Godspeed, child of man.'


	13. Chapter 13: Mimir's Well

A/N: And so ends The World Tree's horrifyingly long hiatus. Sorry about that, readers (all zero of you), you know how real life gets. I think I may try to get back to that every-Sunday update schedule in the future.

(-)

A grand silhouette floated calmly through the dust of oblivion. In a graveyard stretching for lightyears, this was the greatest and most honoured of the deceased, a dark shape that loomed above the mechanical corpses of Mimir's Well, the ruins left behind by long-dead precursors. But the vast mass was not always utterly still and devoid of light. Occasionally, a greenish glow would trickle in stemlike or leaflike patterns, recalling life, breath and natural beauty.

The World Tree was awakening.

(-)

The Curtain now far behind, Ajax led his underlings from the ship, striking out in their Grapearls as a search party. Finding their objective would be a little harder than he had expected - expanses of void stretched for massive distances all around, with chunks of metallic debris and greying cemeteries of planets as the only observable celestial bodies.

'The World Tree'. What could plunge a whole species into barbarism and murder so quickly? Ajax felt equal parts fear and curiosity in regards to this mysterious object's nature. Its discovery would herald the endgame. It was the very focus of humanity's current tribulations. It seemed that controlling the World Tree meant controlling the course of the war... controlling the course of fate itself.

'Dio? Are you with me?' Ajax hurried to call in his most valued junior officer.

'Roger,' said Diomedes.

'I want you to drive your scanners and sensors to maximum range. There's a lot of space to cover here.'

'Will do, sir. Any idea what kind of signal we're looking for?'

'Yes, actually. We're pretty certain it's a Spiral signature of some kind - we have a frequency from Dain, an object with some sort of connection to it, which it should match.'

'Any idea about other characteristics of the objective? Mass? Surface area? Length? Width? Shape? Other energy types? There is a lot to take into consideration.'

'We're woefully underinformed, but I'm guessing it's quite big. Now please stop with the questions and get searching, we don't have much time...'

'Yes, sir.'

The scout team departed with their usual speed and efficiency. Ajax could only hope that they met with success before the Ymir seized their prize themselves. He began to lead his own group ahead. The Tree was hidden somehow, somewhere - how and why would it be hidden? Ajax had too many questions.

(-)

On the other side of the Well, more sinister forces were at work.

Baldr was growing impatient. For all this time, now, it had been his task, appointed by Tyr, to locate the World Tree. Now, as he arrived on the cusp of its retrieval, the apes were once again stumbling in and ruining things at the last moment. But it mattered not. He would show them the price to be paid in defying the will of Tyr. It was exactly as the divine emperor had said; war itself, the concept of war, was far greater than any weapon or force that mere mortals could conjure.

He muttered a prayer to Loki, knowing that subterfuge and stealth, the domains of that almighty trickster, would be important if they were to find the World Tree before those pointless wastes of flesh.

They hunted, in the darkness and emptiness, looking in the deep places where the twin suns of Mimir's Well dared not direct their gaze. There, the demonic shapes of the Ymir mechs were concealed, free to do their dark work in secret.

'Thorsten. Thorleif.' Baldr summoned his two lieutenants to him.

'Yes, my lord?' the pair chorused.

'I want you to split up. Use all your manpower and technology; we cannot afford to lose this ancient triumph to the primate filth that now hunt it! This task was mandated by the very god of war himself, the leader of our people. Emperor Tyr's divine will has been passed onto me. What we do now is a task for the gods themselves... it may decide the fate of our people!'

'Yes, my lord.' Once again, Thorsten and Thorleif spoke in sinister unison, before departing.

Baldr gave a brief glance to the distant Blazing Curtain, and those grave-worlds of the Mimir still lit by the binary star at the Well's heart. It was cold, and sad, a morbid and tragic picture. Those noble cousins of the Aesir, the great ancestors, had been reduced to dust, left to decay in a silent universe. But Tyr had sworn, and so had all of his people sworn, that the music of steel against steel would fill that silence; that the fires of war would bring warmth to the frozen reaches.

The humans would rue the day they tried to crush this heroic vision.

(-)

'Still nothing?' sighed Ajax, beginning to grow impatient. He had returned to the ship, his own search proving futile, and prepared the strike fleet to shift immediately when the scouts found the sacred Tree.

'I'm sorry, sir. It's proved more elusive than we expected.'

'Well, don't give up. It only means we're eliminating the places where it isn't.'

'Thank you for your continued faith, sir.'

'Once upon a time, faith was all we had left. We can't abandon it now. Not after everything that's happened.'

'... roger that. We're heading further out.'

Ajax thought to himself during the long wait, about all the tension, the unease, the chance that everything would go horribly wrong. Perhaps if the Anti-Spiral's original toppler were here, things would be different. No doubt he'd have sent the Ymir into a rout from the very first skirmish. But it seemed humanity had been left to fend for itself. Was it for the best? At least this way, they could grow, improve, learn to deal with their own problems. Yes, if humanity was to survive the exciting times ahead, it would need to learn to rise as a whole, to stop hiding behind one almighty protector and his crew of heroes.

Ajax's eyes lit with a new flame. This was not just any war. This was humanity's chance to prove, once and for all, that it could overcome any adversity, and break through any wall. And it could. He knew it. He had seen it. Even if the Ymir took the World Tree, even if they aligned every star in existence against them, he would have no fear. The heart and will, the memories and feelings of the human race would carry him through, for that was their strength.

After what seemed like hours upon hours, Dio spoke. His words carried all the weight of the world.

'Sir... it's... we've found it... it's huge...'

'What? You've found it!'

'Yes, Colonel. It's right here, there's a flat surface towards the front that we've landed on... can't tell exactly what it is, it's too dark...'

'Dark?'

'Sir, the whole thing is covered in pitch black. It's as if some kind of anti-light system was hiding it from... shit!'

'What happened?'

'Ymir. Lots of them.'

'Damn it all! Okay, don't panic. Stay out of the way, I'm coming with the rest of the search parties. I'll send out a call to Gimmy for reinforcements, too. We'll smash them, you'll see!'

'I understand. Switching to evasive tactics.'

'Good man. I wish you the best of luck.'

Ajax hurriedly sent out a signal for reinforcements and sent Dio's location to the ship.

'Alright, everybody!' Ajax turned to his troops. 'Bat guano's hitting the fan! It's all going down! But not if we have anything to say about it! Are you with me, or are you with me?'

Hundreds of battlecries rang from the assembled Grapearls. The ship began its shunt into warp space.

This would be the turning point of the war.

(-)

Baldr hissed as Nidhogg slammed down onto the cold metal surface of the World Tree. Behind him, an Ymir legion descended as one, drawing their weapons as they saw the stars above obscured by a steadily increasing stream of Grapearls. He was ready to fight. Ready to fulfil his lord's wishes, to bathe the void in blood. The humans had no idea what they were dealing with.

And yet, something shocked Baldr out of his raging mindset. Plummeting towards him, at the fore of the human retaliation, was a startlingly familiar mech. He remembered his experiences with it on Ithaca well, for it had been one of the few frames to seem capable of matching Nidhogg. Still, he had overcome it with ease. He would do so again. He would win this day.

As it touched down gracefully, green wreaths of Spiral power began to charge Aianteia.

'Colonel Ajax.'

Ajax growled. 'You!'

'What, I deserve no more formal a greeting than 'you'?'

'Of course you don't, alien scum. You almost trashed my ace custom last time I tangled with you. We have a score to settle.'

'Ah, at least you are humble enough to accept your previous defeat. But this fight is not merely between us tonight...'

'No, there's something bigger at work here, isn't there?'

'Hehehehehe... you don't know what it is, do you? You don't understand. The truth of the World Tree.'

'No. I'm sorry we've been too busy creating civilization and harmony to pore over crappy myths about dead gods.'

Baldr almost shrieked with uncontained ire. 'The Aesir kings died with honour, fighting with the greatest evil in all of space and time!'

'So did plenty of our best, but we didn't go starting wars about it. We honoured their sacrifice. We moved forward.'

'You are moving forward,' Baldr whispered ominously, 'into a dystopia matching the Anti-Spiral's own. A world of suffocation and stifled spirit. You must turn back before it is too late. But you refuse to...'

'Of course. We work towards happiness, not thuggish anger.'

'Your happiness and security, as artificial as they arre, prevent you from seeing the reality of our cause. That is why we must revive them. The World Tree... and the Chained Wolf.'

'More of these goddamn riddles. Are you ever going to explain what any of it actually means?'

'You will see in due time. Yes, you will see.' Baldr cackled as he gestured to his troops. 'Enough talk. We fight!'

The Ymir charged. Instantly, the Icarus Corps did likewise. Diomedes and his squad rolled out of the shadows as Ajax bared his dual blades. Gunshots and metallic clashes created an earsplitting symphony as the battle for the World Tree began.

At first, heavy weapons fire tore through the Ymir, but their chaotic structure prevented them from being targeted in any significant numbers, and as soon as the frontlines met they gained the upper hand, showing off their devestating close combat ability. But the Corps struggled on, determined to make ten Ymir pay for every life lost. Slowly, the scales balanced, the two races locked in an uneasy equilibrium with neither side giving any quarter.

Baldr pulled back at first to direct the overall flow of the engagement, but once it had settled into a stalemate he threw himself into the human ranks, carving and impaling all in his path as he searched for Ajax.

'Colonel!' he screamed. 'Fight me! Fight me for the salvation of your pathetic little ball of dirt! Fight me for the lives and hopes of all the monkeys you lead!'

Aianteia appeared to his right, thrusting forward and bowling him over without warning. He barely parried the rain of scimitar blows that followed.

'I'll fight you,' panted Ajax, 'because you're an annoying, stuck-up dick who should be dead by now.'

The two mechs circled each other, occasionally stepping in for a flurry of blows that were instantly deflected. Both Spiral gauges were filling up fast. They were putting their heart and soul into this duel at the eye of the storm. Baldr was increasingly astounded by the human's abilities. Where before his superior spiral power had overwhelmed Ajax, now he was being matched with little effort, every strike he made met with equal force. How could his abilities have improved to the point that neither he nor Baldr had a clear advantage?

Again and again they met, again and again they failed to inflict meaningful damage. Dancing through the melee, they twisted and sprang from place to place, hoping to outmanoeuvre and outskill their opponent. But their agility and finesse were as evenly matched as their raw strength and Spiral power.

Baldr began to worry. Unless one of them tired and flagged prematurely, the entire battle seemed likely to end in a draw. And anything less than victory was a loss - anything less than victory meant relinquishing the World Tree.

The heavens sang of flame and slaughter. It appeared to all the world that nothing could end this strife.

(-)

A/N: Well, there you have it. Next chapter, the conclusion of the battle at Mimir's Well, the revelation of the World Tree's true purpose, and Nakim's discovery f the horrible secret to his psychoses...


	14. Chapter 14: The World Tree

Sparks rained down upon the cold casings of Aianteia and Nidhogg as they locked weapons, showering forth as Ajax's scimitars ground against his opposite number's lance. Eventually they sprang apart, moving into faster-paced combat, forcing Ajax to let his spiral energy escalate even further. He was being pushed near his limit, and he could tell Baldr was suffering likewise. If this kept up, they would both be entering their graves.

'Human,' gasped Baldr. 'No... Ajax. How in hell are you doing this?'

Ajax grimaced. 'I'd ask myself the same question. You maul like a bear, you Ymir bastard!'

'It looks like I have truly found an equal,' said Baldr, pulling back to catch some breath, 'but how will we resolve this?'

'I'm not giving up,' said Ajax. 'Never. And it doesn't look like you're planning to either... we'll have to keep going at it until one of us drops.'

'Hmm. Wait. Look around, Colonel.'

Ajax realized with a shock that his soldiers were being decimated by a pair of silent, terrifying Ymir, their gleaming halberds flashing in the darkness of space. Even Dio seemed powerless before their furious onslaught, as he and his elite scouts were repeatedly repelled, beaten down until they could only fall back or be annihilated. Ajax made his resolution quickly.

'Sorry, ambassador. This has been fun... but the lives of my people take precedence.'

'I would do the same in your position. I am too tired to stop you... I will not try to halt you. However, I fear you are in a similar state. The fight has already been decided. Weakened as you are, you will never overcome Thorsten and Thorleif...'

'I can try. I can always try!'

With those words, Ajax launched himself into the Ymir, the last strength siphoned from his muscles as he used it to hurl aside all obstacles. Aianteia's twin blades seperated arms from torsos and sliced through the Ymir mechs' ornate armour like the proverbial hot knife through butter, his spiral energy reaching its very peak. He became as a whirlwind or hurricane, tossing aside all who dared stand before him, but he knew it would not last. Every blow sapped his vigour, and he felt the consequences of his efforts as a blanket of weariness, dragging him ever downward.

He reached Thorsten and Thorleif, using the last of his struggling breath to scream a brazen challenge. At first, he landed punishing hits on the surprised Ymir commanders, but they quickly regained the advantage, their double attack confusing and bewildering the exhausted Ajax. Even as he twisted and turned, he found himself unable to keep up. Sharp halberd heads bit deep into Aianteia's once flawless, gleaming carapace. Soon, it was being thrown around like a ragdoll, its limbs weak and limp, its endurance spent. Bitterly, Ajax realized that he had been bested for the first time in the campaign.

Thorsten and Thorleif finally relented as he and his remaining warriors were forced to kneel before the victorious Ymir.

'Damn it,' he sobbed. 'Damn it all!'

Baldr limped up between his two lieutenants, looking down upon his worthy adversary with something approaching regret.

'In a better life, we would have fought side by side, Ajax,' he said. 'But fate is unkind. It has led you into an age of silent complacency... your peace has blinded you. If only you could have seen what we have seen...'

'We can't join you,' said Ajax raggedly. 'We can't stop fighting you. Not after all of this... do you have no gratitude in your heart for the sacrifices our forefathers made? This peace cost the blood of thousands of generations... your ancestors, who you love so dearly, they fought to secure this peace! Don't you see?'

'But that was not their intention, I am sure. They knew the love of war that we all share. That is why they left this for us.'

Ajax began to settle down, breathing more slowly and easily. An odd calm had settled over the defeated humans.

'Baldr... tell me... before this ends, tell me.

What is the World Tree?'

Behind his mech's cold casing, Baldr gave a wicked grin.

'I will tell you, Ajax. Then you, too, will know the truth.'

(-)

'I told you, when we first met, of the beginning times and the rise of the Anti-Spiral. I told you of the valiant kings of the Aesir, and their trials and triumphs... of their last stand, worn to the bone by the endless hordes of the mad god. And most importantly, I told you about their greatest weapons.

The fleets of the Spiral races have always been replete with vast behemoths bristling with weaponry and flagships bearing the banners of heroes. But Odin desired more than this. He had seen what the Anti-Spiral feared in spiral power - its ability to surpass expectations, to shatter the very laws of reality itself. Odin knew, in his infinite wisdom, that the only way the universe would ever free itself was through reinvention, through the destruction of order, and the recreation and preservation of a golden age. To challenge the will of the cosmos, he created a pair of very special vessels. More than mere ships, they were the tools that would shape the universe as Odin saw fit. The size of moons or asteroids, each one bore truly deific potency, for Odin poured his own spirit, power and majesty into them.

One was the the terrible and wrathful vengeance of the Aesir. Odin desired for it to slay the Anti-Spiral himself. It was a planet killer, a shatterer of stars... but for fear that its insane might would be abused, Odin bound and sealed it so heavily that only the greatest Spiral beings, such as the Aesir themselves, could use its dread power.

It was the Destroyer, the Chained Wolf: Fenrir.

The other was a defender of the Aesir's righteous order, the blessed architect of their own divine plan... it too held great strength, but less offensive potential. Still, it was beyond any power seen in this new age of peace... that kind of awe has only ever been achieved during the Anti-Spiral wars. It was to be the bearer of our hope, the shining light of the Aesir and their cousins... the giver of life.

The Preserver... The World Tree: Ygdrassil.

And it is upon Ygdrassil that we stand.

Why is it so important? We already have Fenrir, as you know - why not simply use that to crush our foes? The answer is that we can only access a fraction of its vast potential. Even his majesty, the god-emperor Tyr does not have the power to break its bounds. This leaves Ygdrassil the World Tree as the single highest power in existence. It is both a vessel of war and a terraformer - using its complete strength, we will be able to not only obliterate armies many times the size of your entire species' population, but to literally reshape worlds according to our whim. We will make them spheres of violence and disorder. We will set the gears of war in motion. While Fenrir could bring apocalypses and set the heavens ablaze, Ygdrassil promises something equally beautiful...

Rebirth.

I had thought at first that we would need the Dain interface to revive the World Tree - it is dormant, as you see. But as soon as it is brought before the emperor, we will be able to reforge everything that is or will be. Humanity has no hope. This power, beyond the dreams of mortals, is now ours.'

(-)

Ajax knew fear for the first time that day. The World Tree... it was not a place, or a wellspring of spiral power, as he had expected. It was so much more. It was a god in the form of an ancient spacecraft, the very incarnation of the life and hope of one of history's greatest Spiral races. If the Ymir could truly bring a force as terrible as that to bear... then he could not stop here. He could not let them seize it. All hope would be gone.

He struggled to his feet, gesturing to his troops to rise. They were not finished yet. They couldn't be.

'There's life in you yet, eh?' sneered Baldr.

'This... this is awful... I cannot let you have Ygdrassil!'

Few of his troops had risen with him. Baldr laughed as he observed his.

'You and whose army, manling? Your troops are all dead or tired. You are falling to pieces yourself. Come on now, don't make me kill you. Just...

... give up.'

Ajax fell again, all thoughts of determination and perseverance drained from his body. It was over. There really was no hope. No freedom from violence. No lasting peace. No joy, no beauty, no heroism, no goodness left. Broken and abandoned, he could not even weep. He had nothing. Humanity was powerless before the greatest of weapons, and he felt in his heart the Anti-Spiral's promised absolute despair.

And yet a lone voice, achingly familiar, cut through the darkness, lifting Ajax from the depths. It promised revival, justice, the noble fight - courage, valour, hot blood and the determination to stand up again, stronger than ever before.

'Well, I've heard enough. Prepare to die, you wannabe-nihilist **fucks**.'

Nakim had emerged from the void.

(-)

A vast explosion tore across the deck of the Ygdrassil, a pure and roiling mass of spiral power. It effortlessly ripped the Ymir forces apart, sending many of the survivors toppling into deep space and still more fleeing in abject terror at the newly risen harbinger of their destruction.

With almost nonchalant ease, Nakim decapitated Thorsten's mech with one swing of his blade, simultaneously bowling Thorleif over with a powerful kick. He brought his sword and fist to bear against the cowering form of Thorleif's machine, slicing off limbs and marking huge rents and impacts in its shell.

But he was not done yet. Chasing down the routers and those who still held fast, he brought out his left weapon, a plasma cannon. Grinding to a halt as he arrived before the remaining warriors, he drank in the sight of the Ymir army surrounding him.

'This,' he said with relish, 'is exactly what I've been waiting for!'

Nakim charged.

He felt as if fire was coursing through his veins; he moved without doubting or second-guessing his actions, hurling himself at his opponents with reckless abandon. The Ymir were too slow and weak. As Nakim's spiral energy mounted, his victory became more and more obvious. He smashed through the enemy with increasing ease and utter confidence. His timing had been perfect. The day was saved.

The fight was over quickly. Even with numbers on their side the Ymir were helpless. Nakim fired and hacked and slashed until alien mechs fell by the dozen - soon, Ygdrassil's deck was littered with broken machinery and the bodies of Ymir.

As the smoke cleared, Baldr screamed with purest fury and frustration.

'How? How is this possible! We had you cornered, broken, crushed! Who, in the name of all the gods, are you to reverse all of this?'

Nakim was silent for a moment, and when he spoke it was in a low, threatening tone.

'I am a man divided; a man with a mind full of demons. But nonetheless, I am a soldier of humanity. My name is Nakim. Tell your people to remember that name.'

Baldr snarled. 'This is far from over, ape. Your kind will never be able to bring Ygdrassil against us. You are insects before the gaze of Tyr. The day of reckoning is yet to come.'

With that, he disappeared into the abyss.

For a short while, all was quiet. The Icarus Corps rested and recuperated, each one thanking the fortunes for their salvation at Nakim's hand. Eventually, Ajax staggered to his feet and limped over to Nakim.

'Nakim... yes, I think I remember that name. Private Nakim, from Hector's squad. You pretty much just... well, saved us all.'

'Ha, don't thank me, I almost doomed us all that one time,' laughed Nakim.

'Ah, you were barred from duty, weren't you?'

Nakim seemed sheepish. 'Er, yeah, I should probably be going now, if the higher-ups find out...'

Ajax chuckled. 'Ah, I don't think you're in any trouble. Quite the opposite, you may have just singlehandedly prevented mankind's destruction!'

'Well, I hardly did that alone. If you hadn't taken care of that general guy I'd have been pretty screwed.'

'You know Baldr?'

'That his name? Ouch. Uh, yeah, I remember seeing him and that fat one at Ithaca. I tried to help you fight them, but I got absolutely destroyed...'

Ajax grinned. 'That was you? Haha! I remember that! Yes, I think we've come leaps and bounds since then. I had that talkative loon matched blow for blow, and you just wiped out an army on your own! Come on, Nakim, let's get back to base. We'll be heroes, trust me.'

(-)

'I never thought I'd see this. Not in a thousand years.'

Nakim tried to hide his embarassment as Gimmy perused the dark-haired young soldier. While their last meeting had... ended poorly, Gimmy appeared to be having second thoughts. He was almost visibly impressed.

'Well, sir,' said Nakim. 'I can't take all the credit-'

'You might as well, the rest of us have already earned our laurels.' The veteran smiled. 'A simple matter of days or weeks ago, I was feeling dismal and despairing about the entire war effort. After Ithaca and your stunt at Ygdrassil, we've practically won the war.'

'Ah,' Ajax interjected, 'You say 'earned our laurels'... I distinctly remember getting bailed out of the last two major fights. Hell, I downright got trashed in all the personal combats I pulled back on the old green...'

'We already agreed, Colonel, without you at Ygdrassil kicking the ass off the Ymir's second highest rated guy, I'd have been boned,' chimed Nakim.

Gimmy clapped them both on the shoulder. 'It's also wonderful that you've both learned some humility. People really can change, eh?'

He turned to the other officers and soldiers who were busily drinking in celebration of the recent human triumph.

'Gentlemen! Raise your glasses or cheer, whatever you feel like, but I'd like some sort of applause for the heroes of the day here! To Colonel Ajax and Private Nakim!'

A roar of victorious joy filled the warm mess room, and Nakim and Ajax appreciatively joined in the festivities. It was wonderful that after all this time they had something to truly celebrate. There had been some loss, but overall, mankind had clearly gained the upper hand over the past weeks.

Nakim happily mingled with Ajax's subordinates, conversing energetically with Dio and his squad, fellow victors of Ygdrassil. He was more at ease than he had ever been before. Even if they could not use the World Tree, they had denied the Ymir their precious weapon. They had felled their armies and sent their ambassador packing with his tail between his legs. Yes, Nakim had accomplished what he had left his homeworld for.

(-)

Eventually, as the heat and alcohol grew too much, he departed to a cooler, darker room in the now restful _Icarus_. He took some time to breathe and run over the turbulence of the recent weeks once more in his head.

But this contemplative silence was broken by a cold voice that Nakim had hoped never to hear again.

'Welcome back, Nakim.'

He whipped around to face his commanding officer. 'Hector!'

Hector seemed crueler and sharper than Nakim remembered. His voice had become less passionate, adopting a dry, ominous quality as he spoke. 'Enjoying your newfound heroism?'

'Well, um, yeah, I-'

'Excellent. Anything on your mind?'

'I - what? Hector, what is this? Is this how you greet a returned-'

'You expected a warm welcome? Ha, you know better than that. Answer my question, Nakim.

Is there. Anything. On. Your. Mind?'

Nakim experienced a chilling sensation. He stared, frozen, at Hector, feeling a strange dread. It all came back to him. The amnesia, the depression, the psychosis. 'H-how... how do you...'

'Ah, you've caught on. Yes, that's right, Nakim. I know exactly what you've been going through. I am one of the few privy to your... secret.'

Nakim broke into a cold sweat. 'Secret? What the hell? What... what is this...'

Hector's eyes gleamed. 'I was, after all, present at your creation.'

'Creation? Hector, please... tell me what you're...'

'It may be a bit much, I know. Listen, Nakim. You know of the advances Lordgenome made in biological engineering?'

Nakim didn't answer.

'You know of the foundations of genetic manipulation... controlled breeding... cloning.'

Anger took Nakim. 'Just get to the point, goddammit. Tell me! Tell me, Hector, _what the hell is wrong with me_!'

Hector's smirk disappeared, replaced with a completely impassive mask.

'What if I were to tell you, private, that you are but a facsimile, a replica, a pale imitation of the man called Nakim?'

Nakim started to shiver as the awful revelation seeped into the darkest corners of his mind.

'What if were to tell you that you are a doll, a puppet, a clone made only for military convenience?'

He fell to his hands, feeling faint and sick. The dread truth had been revealed. He was a copy. Inferior. Flawed. Artificial.

'Your created mind simply could not cope with Nakim's memories... that is why you are weak. That is why you suffer. Look at me.'

Shaking like a leaf, Nakim turned his gaze upwards, meeting Hector's icy glare.

'Open your eyes, 'Nakim'.'

(-)

A/N: Well, there it is. Chapter 14. What a tweest? Perhaps, perhaps not. Stay tuned for Chapter 15, in which all is not what it seems, and a lonely little island holds the onl hope for our hero's resolution...


	15. Chapter 15: Rewritable Truth

It was raining when Nakim reached the surface. Dry soil gratefully drank in the moisture it desperately needed while rich grasses were matted and beaten down by the excessive downpour. Droplets streamed down the cold, metallic surface of Nakim's Grapearl as a distant murmur of thunder reached him, climbing to a rumbling crescendo as he wandered aimlessly through the plains.

Real was no longer real. He could not distinguish between lies and truth, between right and wrong; he was disoriented, swimming in an ocean of confusion. Other people no longer existed, and sounds and colours barely registered. In this haze of uncertainty, he was unsure that he himself was not an illusion. That he could move and feel meant little to him. Right now, the idea that he was a creation, a blank laboratory-grown copy of a genuine article, made enough sense to horrify him.

He looked out at the saturated landscape. Green and grey as far as the eye could see. Gigantic puddles were forming, a distant river swelling. The heavy rain was starting to threaten floods.

It was not much to look at, but it reminded Nakim of something.

The last vestige of clarity in his mind - the twin sky that had taken his breath from him all those years ago. The moonlit night and burning sunset, hand in hand, as the world slept blissfully beneath. It was a beacon to him, a promise of security, of enlightenment, of _hope_. He felt as if his last chance of knowing who he really was, and why his mind betrayed him, was to seek an answer from that sky.

(-)

The water plummeting from above had calmed to a melancholy drizzle by the time Maosha arrived at the city outskirts where Nakim had asked to meet. Sighs of gentle wind supplanted the earlier thundercrashes, chaos and fury making way for a kind of serene sadness. Behind her stood a group of tall blue buildings, droplets still chasing each other down their walls, stopping and starting from time to time as they reached the windows. Before her stretched the wilderness, as untouchable as ever.

Anxious thoughts circled round her mind. What had become of Nakim? Unpredictable, troubled, degenerating Nakim, the shadows growing under his eyes. The calmly optimistic, kindhearted Nakim she had known and loved had disappeared, retreating day by day ever since the eve of war. It was a terrible thing, war. Claiming life, claiming sanity, claiming homes and dreams.

It was always the same, whether the air was fought in selfishness or for some lofty ideal. In their infancy, it had struck terror across the face of the planet, but the worst of it had been averted by the heroes of yesteryear. Maosha had only wished to find peace and happiness amid a new age of colour and excitement; she had respected Nakim's wishes to see the great beyond for himself all those years ago, but he had promised to return.

That promise was broken. Nakim had never come back.

A different man altogether had stepped back down onto the earth, a wild and tempestuous being. At first she had accepted that he might have changed, but as time passed, she felt a fundamental shift in him, as if something had broken. She became worried, concerned, always having to look out for him. And then when he began to forget things, his psyche wearing down, she feared she would never see the old Nakim again.

As if in answer to this fear, he appeared there and then, seeming to step out of the horizon itself. He seemed at his lowest low. Even his gait had slowed to a shuffle, weary and weak.

'Nakim!' she called, at the same time almost dreading to see what he looked like up close at this point. He did not respond, instead marching forward implacably.

As he reached her, she had to stifle a gasp at his haggard, emaciated, exhausted state.

'Oh no...' She was uneasy and uncertain.

'Maosha.' His voice was low, hollow, and empty. 'This might be the last chance I have to talk to you.'

'Wh... what are you-?'

'No whats or ifs... it's the truth. I can't avoid it.' He almost dipped into a hoaarse croak, his vocal folds clearly as drained as the rest of his limp body.

'Nakim, what's going on? Where have you been? What _happened _to you?'

'The journey back... took a while this time.'

'Nakim,' she said gravely, 'have you eaten? Or slept?'

'No point.. doing that stuff anymore.'

Maosha grabbed him by the arms, horrified, almost wanting to shake him back to life. 'Nakim, this is insane! It's gone too far! You can't be - why the hell have you just stopped working like this?'

'Don't... don't call me Nakim anymore.' He was slurring, his eyelids heavy. Maosha feared he would collapse.

'What are you going on about? Just tell me!'

Stopping for a moment, Nakim seemed to put his words together. 'You know what's been happening. Brain. Gone. Screwed. Thought I was recovering... found out the truth.'

'What truth? For goodness' sake, tell me! I need to know how to help you!'

'No point. Hector told me... everything. No point.

Mm not Nakim. Just a copy. A doll.'

Maosha shook her head from side to said. 'No... no, no... there's no way...' But it made too much sense. The inconsistency, the changes, the loss of memories. What if they weren't his own? What if it really hadn' been Nakim who had come back from space?'

'Maosha...' he whispered. 'There's only one thing I can do.'

She only nodded, her speech taken from her.

'Not real. No point. Just a fake... but I don't know all of it. Just bits. If I could make it to the island... go back to the island. I'd know.'

He sagged, on the verge of falling to his knees. Desperately, Maosha struggled to hold him up.

'The island? You mean where...?'

'You already know. The island. With the tree.' For just a moment, his eyes lit up. 'Gotta go there. The tree... it's calling. It's always been calling. Leaves, branches. Please,' he begged. 'I need to go there...'

Suddenly, Maosha understood. If he could remember that tree, it would be the last piece of his past he had to cling too.

'Okay,' she said softly. 'Okay, we'll go there.'

Nakim smiled, closed his eyes and fell to the ground in a heap.

(-)

Waves lapped the sides of the boat gently, the water's sheen fading a little along with the afternoon sun. The pinkish tint of dusk was creeping across the skyline, but a warm wind kept the cold of the daylight's departure at bay.

Maosha leaned out over the water, watching the rising, falling seas pass by, every now and then turning her head towards the green jewel in the distance. She had not been to her old home in a long time, but necessity now demanded that she return. If it was the only way to heal Nakim... but what if it didn't? What if he was the shell he thought he was?

She drove the doubts from her head. Even if this Nakim was false, he could still find his own path. If his visit to the great old tree put his mind at rest, he would be able to start anew, and she would be able to begin looking for the real Nakim.

As it was, Nakim was now washed, fed and rested, his body restored - but his mind was still tattered and fragmented. He was fixated with the tree and the island to a monomaniacal degree.

As the island began to draw closer, Nakim came out on deck to join her, silent and still. He had a driven look in his eyes, a pair of eyes that fcused on just one thing - the island. The shores and cliffs were just about in view, and the old lighthouse (Maosha was a little rueful when it came to that place) could be seen standing tall and watching over the incoming ferry.

Eventually, they drew up close to the emerald landmass, disembarking and arriving on the grey sand of the shoreline. Beginning their ascent towards the tree, they ploughed resolutely onwards. Nakim spoke for the first time in hours.

'I feel... like my life has been leading to this moment...'

(-)

There it was, standing proudly before him. Nakim breathed as deeply as he could, his heart hammering at his ribcage as he turned his eyes upward towards the top of the tree.

It was all flashing through his mind. The struggles, the trials, the fears and forgotten moments, the erosion of truth in his mind... Jun, the old man, the Ymir, Gimmy, Hector, Maosha. The places, the people, the events, everything he could remember - and the call of the leaves. It was stronger than ever before, almost a scream. Beckoning him to security and completion, the tree was a beacon, or a siren call. This was it. His chance to end it.

He turned to Maosha. 'This is the tree of the world. And I am going to climb it.'

As Maosha nodded and bit her bottom lip nervously, Nakim turned back to the vast plant, stepping forward to reach a lower branch. He placed one foot on it, making sure his grip was firm, took hold of one of the branches above it, and hoisted himself up.

A shock ran through his system. It was so strng now, the feeling of something trying to break through, of his mind trying to click back together. Steeling himself, he began to climb.

Branch by branch, step by step, he carefully ascended. Any danger came from his increasing dizziness and delirium simply from he overwhelming joy and nostalgia that this tree held for him, even if he could scarcely remember why. Little vignettes of his life danced around his mind, fragments of scenes from his buried past piecing themselves back into something recognizable. When he arrived at the top of this tree, something was going to happen. He no longer simply felt it. He knew it.

Another step. He was over halfway up; looking back down at Maosha, who gave an encouraging smile. He dimly recalled a fear of heights. The powerful sensation made him tremble, an image forming in his mind of a painting having its cover pulled off to reveal colour and clarity to the world. He heaved himself up once more. This time, he found himself wanting to find something at the tree's top - some kind of bag? They were pieces of memory, scattered haphazardly, bu they were beginning to coalesce into something he recognized.

Again and again he mounted the next branch up, quivering with anticipation as he neared the top. People from another life were talking to him in his head. A beautiful, redhaired, bespectacled woman, a rude, boisterous male child, a kindly old man - people he could swear he had never known. He looked up, and saw an orange sky, his breath growing faster as he noticed that it bordered a swathe of midnight blue.

He arrived on the penultimate branch, gripping the tree tightly. Reeling, he had to make a concerted effort not to fall off. Wild emotions of all kinds were running through him, and yet he felt more whole, more at peace than he could ever remember being. It was so close now, something beautiful, something he had longed for, something he was a moment away from seizing. One last time, he gast a glance back at the world he had come from, that confused and twisted existence, before he made the last step and emerged at the very summit.

And there, waiting for him, was his cherished memory. The moonlit night mingled with the crimson sunset to form an image that was truly perfect.

Complete.

Whole.

(-)

For some time, Nakim disappeared among the leaves, and Maosha waited, hoping against hope. She wanted him to have found what he was looking for, and to have found himself. She prayed for a kind truth, for Nakim to come back after all those years away from the world. If he could find it, if he could find his past, his peace, his absolution, then all would be right again.

Nakim emerged at last, lowering himself to the ground. His head was bowed. A rush of dismay ran through Maosha - it had failed, he was still trapped by his mind's shadow.

But then Nakim raised his head, and she saw that he was smiling, tears rushing freely down cheeks glowing with renewal. She looked into the eyes of a man she knew could only be Nakim; the real Nakim. He spoke, his voice brimming with life and hope.

'Maosha. I remember.'


	16. Chapter 16: Memories

The midnight sky stretched across eternity, a few dark silver clouds drifting pendulously across. It glimmered with little lights, glowing white-blue points that infused it with a new serenity. But not all of them were static. Like divine teardrops, shooting star after shooting star trailed through the darkness, leaving hopeful trails behind them before they flickered out of sight.

'Woooow!' cried the voice of a young boy, wide-eyed at the phenomena in motion far above him.

Entranced by the wondrous scene, Nakim sprinted across the beach, glancing down only to look at sparkling reflections of the starlight in the sea. His short legs kicked up little clouds of dust as he made his way to a better viewpoint.

Behind him, Maosha was flagging, reaching out a hand and calling for him to slow down. Nakim ignored her, too exultant at the sight of nature's glory to heed her pleas. By the time the exasperated girl had caught up, Nakim had already found the highest point he could and was gazing reverently at the distant meteor shower. Maosha struggled to regain her breath, but joined him in looking, astounded, upon the heavens.

'Isn't it great?' said Nakim excitedly, sparing a sideways glance.

'Beautiful...' replied his breathless companion.

At this, he broke into a determined grin. 'I'm gonna go up there one day. Go up and see everything.'

'Y-you're sure?' Maosha's eyes widened a little.

'Sure.'

'You're going to leave, then...' She tried to hide her dejection, bowing her head quietly.

'Well, yeah.' Nakim became a little more serious. 'Isn't it worth it? This is what I've been telling you about! This is why I want to go up to space!'

A small, gentle hand tugged shyly at his sleeve. 'Please tell me you'll come back,' said Maosha, looking back up at him with sincere concern in her eyes.

Nakim put on his most reassuring smile and nodded. 'It's a promise.'

Giving a little nod of relief, she tured back to the sky's scene of wonder. The display continued, but cold night air began to set in, sending the first shivers down the two children's spines.

'Cold?' asked Nakim. She gave another nod.

Dusting himself off, he looked across the beach for a more sheltered viewpoint. 'We could go to the lighthouse, that'll be warmer and higher up too!'

Maosha could only give a last nod of approval before Nakim grabbed her by the hand and went running once more.

(-)

'So this is it, then.'

The sun, it seemed, had arrived to herald his departure, blazing as brightly as it did on that clear summer day. Surrounding him was the noise and bustle of a flourishing Kamina City. That day, Nakim drank it in, aware that it was the last time he would hear the familiar urban roar for a long time.

He turned to the friends and family who had come to bid him farewell, a peal of regret ringing in his heart.

'I could say something corny like "it has been an honour" right now, but you guys know me. Never had much of a way with words.' He shook his head in mock shame before continuing. 'But let me tell you, I'm going to go out there, kick ass, do mankind proud, and I'll be coming home to the welcome I deserve! So don't go missing me or anything!'

There was a ripple of laughter and cheering before Nakim gave his wave goodbye and prepared to walk the road to his future. Maosha's face, shining with tears, was the last thing he saw before he turned around and strode fearlessly up the ramp to his allocated transport.

He never turned back.

(-)

Nakim felt a little self-conscious as the cold-eyed blond man looked him up and down. Gauging and appraising, his gaze seemed to scan or read Nakim's thoughts like words on a page.

'Nakim, is it? You'll be serving as a private under myself from now on, and I will expect the utmost diligence and obedience, or you will not be active in this corps for much longer.' The lieutenant's tone was just as icy as his unmoving expression.

Nakim, still a little overwhelmed by the furious stream of events he was undergoing, simply said 'Sure.'

'Sure? _Sure_? You are in the military now! It would do you well to exercise more formality. And you will address me as _sir._'

'Yes, sir.' He was mildly shocked.

'Anyway, I hope you will at least show a little more respect to your other comrades,' he indicated Nakim's fellow pilots, 'Privates Jet and Kaidomaru and Corporal Minayo.'

Nakim nodded, feeling a little more amiable towards the lower-ranking members of his squad. 'It'll be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.'

Hector's icy expression was still unmoved, but his posture suggested a slight relaxation. 'Very well. Then follow us; you still need to be properly inaugurated...'

(-)

'Woah, Nakim! Something big, headed your way!'

Nakim steered sharply to the left, a hair's breadth from the passing missile. The argent titan behind it immediately propelled itself straight towards him, but before it could make contact a forceful puncture opened in its torso, Kaidomaru's bullet lancing through. Another two Ymir forced their way forwards, but Nakim and Jet fired from both directions, easily perforating them.

Collapsing into a tight circle at Hector's command, the squad faced the next wave with no weak points. A furious blizzard of projectiles sprayed outwards, washing over numerous incoming Ymir. There were an intimidating amount of them, but reinforcements sweeping across the right flank blunted the threat of the offense. Launching their own counterattack, Hector's squad drew their close combat armaments, charging with focused fury into the Ymir formation.

Jet and Nakim involved themselves in the close-quarters assault with gusto. Jubilantly, Jet plowed through a trio of light mechs, bringing both his blade and sidearm to bear for maximum offensive potential. Nakim, meanwhile, assumed a spread-out stance, all of his Grapearl's limbs working in synchronization to repel multiple attackers at a time. As an Ymir mech's thigh made contact with his left fist and was smashed into a cloud of fine scrap metal, Nakim silently congratulated himself for finding an effective way to deal with opponents that outnumbered him. But still more came, and he charged his Grapearl with tangible willpower in readiness.

He'd already been through a fair few engagements with his new squad, so their tactical tendencies had begun to become familiar to him; Kaidomaru and Minayo were passive, distance fighters that preferred to fight with maximum efficieny and minimal risk. Jet was an energetic aggressor, his speed of movement and relentlessness serving him well in the thick of the melee and acting as a natural complement to Nakim's more measured, confident offensive. Nakim himself fought in any place with any method he felt he needed to at the moment, and in stark opposition to this Hector fought and moved only according to prepared plans and reliable strategies; Nakim found his inability to improvise ineffectual, though Hector's mindset was useful in combat involving large numbers of participants. Nevertheless, this combination of various individual approaches made for a force to be reckoned with.

Deftly and rapidly, Nakim switched to a focused attack using his Grapearl's war-blade, focusing on one foe at a time to bring the weapon's full might to bear and make sure the enemy would not be able to counter. A pair of heavy units flanked him briefly, but he easily avoided their cumbersome blows by smoothly returning to his previous defensive stance. Flitting to the right, he unleashed a powerful sword swing once more, rending through the armour on the back of one of the beasts. This motion returned him to his offensive posture, ready to meet the Ymir's cohort head-on. It was over in a matter of seconds, the mighty but slow-moving shots that the Ymir released posing no threat to Nakim's uninterrupted flow of movement. His speed and unpredictability swiftly reduced his opponent to chunks of iron hurtling through empty space.

Alas, there was no time to celebrate. The right flank reinforcements had been forced to fall back, a swarm of elite Ymir storming towards Hector and company in their wake.

As the enemy met them, they found themselves beaten back as swiftly as they themselves had decimated the centre of the horde. Jet's Grapearl had entire limbs torn off in a frenzy of munitions, and Minayo barely caught the battered machine as it span backwards at lightning speed. Hector and Nakim wordlessly rushed into the frontline, but even Kaidomaru's covering fire was unable to prevent the Ymir from attacking en masse, the silver demons surrounding them and refusing to let up their vicious brutality. Hector unsuccessfully tried to escape upwards. It was useless; he was dragged back down by an Ymir commander and set into savagely by its retinue whilst Nakim became unable to move or attack, trapped helplessly in his cockpit as he was shaken back and forth by the blows of a multitude of furious metal talons. The sounds of his mech's armour shattering and tearing struck fear into him for the first time. Unable to save himself, he bowed his head as if to pray for an answer.

He thought of the people and the places he cherished. He thought of Maosha, of the island, of his long-gone father. He thought of his mentor Yomako, of Kamina City and the friends he had made there, of the heaven-piercing hero who had saved his beleaguered homeworld back when the sky was falling.

Swelling and roaring into being, strength filled his every pore and fibre, reaching a critical point until it began to overflow. The tumultuous cascades of emerald flame roared from his body to fill the cockpit, and then spiralled from the Grapearl's now-blazing hull to trap the Ymir in a maelstrom of destruction. It was an explosion of purest spiral power - power of the kind unseen since years in the past, incinerating grunt and chieftain alike as the barbarians found themselves incapable of outrunning the flames. They had no chance.

Within the minute, they were all gone.

Around him, even the other Icarus pilots reeled, stunned, confused and shocked. It had been sudden. One moment they had been about to receive the killing blow, the next, all their assailants were fled or burnt to a crisp. Few of them managed to trace the conflagration's origin, and even then they were too taken aback to comprehend what had just taken place. Their surprise saviour was himself attempting to rationalize his sudden access to unnatural amounts of power.

Within his moment of contemplation, Nakim realized where this ludicrous inferno of spiral energy originated from. He had cast aside thoughts of himself, aspirations for victory or personal glory; he had reflected on the things that had made him strong, the things that had made him who he was, the things that had helped him evolve. They were a source of limitless power, fuel for the pure will and emotion that drove Nakim's cataclysmic outburst.

He smiled contentedly and lay back as his comrades began to cheer around him, not because of their dawning recognization and celebration of his action, but because he had finally worked out the true meaning of Spiral power and in doing so found the true path to strength and happiness.

How sad it was that it would be taken from him in a matter of hours.

(-)

The hollow, metallic ringing of footsteps was as omnipresent as always in the hallways of _Icarus_, though as far as Nakim could tell only his own were echoing. He would be sitting in reflective solitude in his personal quarters, but nature had called; his room was inconveniently far from the station's nearest bathrooms. Living in space had offered him a world of excitement so far, but there were of course less glorious aspects to it than his childhood dreams had included.

As he walked, something unusual came over him. A chilling presence. A sense of foreboding, as if he was being watched, or something bad was about to happen. Casting aside his being followed as a ridiculous and unreasonable idea, he concentrated on the walk forward, moving at a quicker pace so as to reach the relief of his destination sooner.

Eventually and inevitably, he arrived in the so-called 'hygiene sector' and promptly emptied his bladder in the first stall he could find. He emerged with a sigh of satisfaction. Unfortunately, his relief was replaced in moments by exasperation at having to make the same journey back, and he accelerated once more, now longing for the peace and sanctity of his solitary bunk. His earlier exertions had left him quite tired. Nakim made a mental note not to push his spiral gauge _too _far - overwhelming one's enemies in a mass of flame and fury was all well and good, but losing all one's speed and vigour as a result was not quite so advantageous.

And so he travelled back at a brisk pace, but now the ominous feelings were growing too strong to be ignored. Every so often, he thought he saw a shadow out of the corner of his eye, or heard a distant, ringing noise, but whenever he checked around him there was nothing there. Suddenly, as he approached the residential sector, this palpable dread left him, and for a moment he was at peace.

With equal abruptness, a man stepped out of the shadows and in one smooth motion raised a weapon to the side of his head.

As he turned his head, Nakim was shocked to see Hector standing there, cold, grim contempt written on his face.

'Having fun playing the hero, are we, Nakim?'

Whatever the mindset Hector was in right now, it was definitely something he had kept hidden away. His voice was crueller than Nakim had even thought possible. He had no time to even stammer a response.

'It comes so easily to idiots like you. People who don't know what they're up against. People who don't know their place. That lack of knowledge always seems to swing in your favour, but in the end it will only be your undoing.'

'Hector, what is this?'

'Silence! The time for your useless words of bravado is over. Let us closely examine exactly why lack of knowledge is a disadvantage. Do you _know_ what this weapon is, Nakim?'

'No, and I have no idea why you're putting it against my-'

'It is a temporal lobe neuralizer, pioneered by an inventor by the name of 'Leeron'. Originally used to deal with secret information falling into the wrong hands, it is a device that gradually erodes long-term memory, beginning with recent information and working its way backwards. If I pull this trigger, you will first of all forget your antics from today. You will forget me ever raising this weapon against you.' He tapped the gunlike device threateningly. 'Then, piece by piece, you will lose yourself. You will forget people you met years ago, skills you learned even as an adolescent. You will begin to lose sight of why you do what you do. There may be side effects; psychosis, phobias, insomnia. But they will not matter by the time the neauralizer's work is finished. When it is done, you will have lost all motivation, having forgotten even your precious childhood memories. At the very end, unless you' - Hector snorted - 'unless you find some miraculous way to correct the process, you will become a blank slate. A preferable alternative to the attention-whoring buffoon you are, I assure you.'

Nakim felt himself tremble at the horrifying prospect. It sounded like a fate worse than death. It was essentially a loss of his very soul that Hector described.

'Wh-why... why are you doing this?'

'Why? Why do I do anything, Nakim? I keep it private, but I am every bit the glory hound you are. The difference between us is that I am deserving of praise, I have reached where I am with skill, experience and years of blood, sweat and tears. I am here to make my name into legend - I cannot be upstaged by a fool such as you who wins his victories with ridiculous things like ''courage'' and ''determination'' and ''fighting spirit''! Your pretty sentiments and flashy gestures are every bit as worthless as you are, and today you have taken them too far. I will make you forget them, I will make you forget everything! I am destined to be the leader, the hero in this conflict - I will die before I am usurped by a smack-talking grunt like YOU!'

'Hector, stop!' Nakim yelled, his fright now turning to rage. 'This is ridiculous, you can't just erase me to feed your insane superiority complex!'

'Watch me!' roared Hector, madness now blazing in his eyes. The corrupt officer was almost frothing with bitter intent. 'You will not stand in the way of my dream! No one will!'

Nakim reflexively raised his arm to knock the strange firearm from Hector's hand as he stepped forward, but it was too late. Hector was long past hesitation.

He pulled the trigger, and in an instant, the first of the hundreds of days Nakim would lose disappeared as he himself was sent crashing into unconsciousness.

(-)

The evening's light still cast its glow over the island's grasses where Nakim and Maosha sat, beneath the great tree that had saved Nakim from his loss of self. He had described his recollections, his triumphs, losses and betrayal by Hector; he revealed for the first time, not only to her but to himself, the truth of why his past had left him.

'There you have it. I'm no copy. I had my memories taken from me, but I am the person they truly belong to. And now, just as easily as it all rushed away... it's coming back.'

He glanced at her, unsure of her thoughts and feelings. With a shock, he realized he had known her far longer than he'd thought he had, and that she was supposed to have been far more than a friend to him.

'So... you're Nakim?' she asked. 'The real Nakim?'

'Definitely. Cloning technology is forbidden in the military, there's no way Hector would have access to something as far-fetched as that. Besides, I don't think it's even at a stage where duplicating the original's memories is possible. You can copy bodies, but not minds.'

This seemed to put Maosha at ease, but there were still things Nakim knew he had to explain, things he had to find out, and things he had to apologize for.

'I'm sorry,' he said, in a voice softer than either of them were accustomed to, with a sad smile on his face. 'I've spent all these years... not even knowing who you were, or what you really meant to me. I've been, well, a complete dickweed, really.' He looked up hesitantly, expecting to encounter disappointment, but instead found himself looking at a gently smiling face as a pair of warm, slender hands took his. Maosha's eyes shimmered faintly, as if holding back tears.

'It doesn't matter. You're here now. You're Nakim. The Nakim I know. The Nakim... The Nakim I love.'

Nakim felt heat rise in his face, but ignored it, and wordlessly tightened his grip on her hands as she continued.

'I just wanted you to keep that promise. I wanted you to come back to me.'

Nakim felt the corners of his own mouth rising. Everything was falling into place in his mind; his life made more sense than it had ever had, thoughts and feelings and memories sorting themselves into their natural order. He remembered everything about her. The constant concern for his useless child self. The defiance she had shown to the boys who had tormented him at first. The jealousy she had shown when Miss Yomako had first arrived on the island and left Nakim starry-eyed. The tearful misery at the thought that she had nearly lost his most treasured possession, hoping to impress him by recovering it afterwards. Poor Maosha.

'I've finally made it back,' he chuckled. 'Took me long enough.'

'I was afraid.' Maosha's voice was full of emotion and honesty. 'The closer I wanted to be to you... the further away you got. You were more distant every day, and I didn't know why... I was always afraid... af-fraid it might be something to do with m-me...'

Alarmed as tears began to roll down her face in earnest, Nakim impulsively pulled her into a protective embrace.

'Maosha,' he said fiercely, 'there is nothing wrong with you. Nothing. It wasn't because I knew you... it was because I didn't know you. I forgot you.'

He pulled back so he could look into her eyes, an affectionate smile on his face. 'But it's all come back to me. Every single moment of every single year. All the ups and downs and the silly little things we shared... and most of all, for some reason, I can remember these words.'

They were the words he'd said to Maosha to lift her spirits, on that day she had confessed to stealing the bag. Looking back, he'd probably come off as incredibly goofy, but he'd been proud of himself. He hoped they would work a second time.

'Maosha. Let's run away together!'

She gasped, her features lighting up like sunlight breaking through stormclouds. 'You DO remember!'

Nakim's smile became wider, an overwhelming tide of warmth and fondness rising within him. 'I could never forget it.'

And with that, he said goodbye to those years of distance and loneliness and kissed her.

(-)

He didn't know how long he spent on that island, relaxed and content in Maosha's arms, happily reminiscing about their shared past. He knew only the sorrow of having to part with her, one last time. After finally expressing things they'd been unable to express for such a long time, it felt like something of a letdown to have to leave so soon. But it was necessary. Nakim knew he had a job to do, and he had finally remembered what he needed to accomplish it.

'I'm so sorry.' He apologized for the umpteenth time, feeling like he could never make up for the years he had spent in his military career treating her as nothing more than a familiar face. 'I... I want nothing more than to stay here. But there's something up there that wants to grind you and me and every other precious person on this planet into ashes. I absolutely can't let that happen.'

Maosha simply looked at him, smiling slightly and gently caressing his face. 'I know.' There was pride and love in her voice and in her eyes. It made Nakim feel like he could duke it out with the whole universe if he needed to.

'After this,' he stated with force and confidence, 'I'm coming back for good. And then we can 'run away together' to wherever the hell we like. After this, we'll have all the time in the world!'

He turned towards the shore, ready to make his final journey. Before he could leave, Maosha's soft, reassuring voice chimed sweetly:

'Nakim. Thank you.'

Nakim turned back for a moment, his spirits high.

'Don't thank me just yet. I'm gonna go and obliterate those wastes of space for you. Trust me, I'll be back in no time.'

She nodded happily as he left her for the last time.

His gaze turned now to the stars, where his destiny waited. The wolf's chains were breaking. The seeds of the world tree were sprouting. It was time to face the end.

(-)

A/N:

My goodness me, has it been a while. I can only apologize profusely for my lengthy, unwarranted and thoroughly unproductive absence; needless to say, at some point the pressures and enchantments of that strange thing we call 'real life' swept me away long enough to become disconnected from this wonderful realm of fanwork. But rest assured, anyone who actually pays attention to this trainwreck; I may have fallen into the all-too-common pitfalls of sporadic updates and an extended hiatus, but I have been adamant from day one that I will avoid the fatal mistake of not seeing this through to the end. And now I have returned, and completed this chapter, that end is so very close! Beginning with the very next installment, the final, apocalyptic confrontation that draws this work to a close will begin, and I know I will have a hell of a time writing it.

I'd like to take a moment to extend my heartfelt thanks to anyone who has ever even briefly read or gave feedback on this fic. The feeling of knowing that some complete strangers out there have absorbed and even enjoyed something I have crafted is immensely special, and I refuse to take it for granted, even for a moment. You are all amazing people with fine taste in Japanimation. Keep on piercing dem heavens!


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